


Buffy Episode Codas - Season 5, 6, and 7

by Djinn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinn/pseuds/Djinn
Summary: These are stories I wrote after eps of Buffy aired, most of which held up okay enough to be included here.  The ones that really went off the rails are in another post for stories overtaken by events.  I didn't start writing Buffy fanfic until the episode "Into the Woods" aired.  I never felt the need to.  The show was perfect and I was good with how they had handled things.  Until Xander's speech at the end of that very annoying episode.  And while i didn't feel moved every episode to write something (and at times things got more than one look), my general unhappiness with the show grew especially into the sixth season.  I can ship Buffy a lot of ways but most if not all of these are heading toward Buffy/Spike.





	1. The Woods Suck (Coda to "Into the Woods")

The door slammed open with a resounding crash.

"Damn you!"

Spike looked over at a very angry slayer. "I figured you for an earlier arrival, Summers." He stared her down as she advanced to his armchair. 

"Get up," she said, her voice nearly a growl.

"Why? So you can beat the crap out of me? Thanks, I'll pass." He turned back to the TV. And found himself falling as Buffy kicked the chair violently over.

"Get the hell up!"

He dug himself out from under the cushions, trying his best to look nonchalant as he stood. "Fine. I'm up." He moved around the chair toward her, his best "So bloody what?" face on. He was surprised to see that she actually moved back. He stopped. Damn this woman—he hated the look she was wearing. The same look she'd worn when he'd gone to her house with the rifle. Forlorn. Lost. "What do you want, Buffy? Why did you come here?" 

Their eyes met and held, then she looked away and walked to the window to look up at the sunlight.

He turned and switched off the TV. The crypt was silent. He studied her for a minute before deciding on his course of action. He made sure the tone of his voice was taunting when he asked, "So did you kill him?"

Her reply was bitterly taut, "No. But I might kill you."

His answer was a snort of derisive laughter. Then it was silent again in the room. He turned and set his chair back to rights. "Well, if you're just going to stand there, I think I may watch me some telly. Don't let me stop you from brooding in silence though. Very Angel-like…except for the whole stand in the sunshine bit. He'd be proud."

She turned around, "Why do you have a window in your crypt?"

He shrugged, taken aback by her question. "Seemed homier."

"More human?" 

He listened for the mockery but didn't hear any. "Yeah. Maybe."

"You're not. Human."

He nodded. "And he was. What happened?"

"I let him get away. Probably forever. I let him just walk out of my life." She slammed the wall next to the window; the glass shook but held. "He was the best thing I've ever had and I let him just fly away."

"Oh, balls." Spike laughed out loud. "Who's been feeding you that load of rubbish?"

She whirled and advanced on him again, moving quickly. "Don't you say one word about him, Spike. Not one word."

"Oh I'll say more than one word. You suddenly think he was 'the one'? Well, he wasn't. He even knew he wasn't."

She was on him in three fast steps, throwing him up against a column, one hand on his neck. "I said not one word." Her hand tightened.

He threw her off easily. "Yeah, you mean it. Why the hell did you come here, eh? It wasn't to beat me up. Because if it was, you'd be done already. You came here because you want me to tell you that you're better off without him. And you are." His hand came out to touch her hair. 

She flinched away.

"He gave you your first taste of normal, Buffy. He gave you something you can't really have and don't really want."

Her eyes were fierce. "You don't know that."

He moved toward her again. Reached out and this time she allowed his hand to make contact with her cheek. He watched her expression to see if he had any effect on her. It didn't change. He sighed and dropped his hand. 

Her voice did mock him this time. "You think you're the one? You think I'll choose you?"

Riley's words again. God he hated introspection. "Who knows, Slayer? Who really knows?" He walked back to his chair and picked up the bottle.

"It'll be a cold day in hell, Spike." 

He turned back to her, took a long drink, then stared her down. "Look around. It is a cold day in hell, Buffy."

They glared at each other for another long moment. Suddenly she turned away. He saw that look again. Lost, she was lost. 

"He was a good man." Her voice broke at the end.

"Never said he wasn't."

"He was good for me."

"Yeah, he probably was."

She moved to him, took the bottle, and drank deeply, grimacing as it went down. "I could have been happy with him."

"No, you could have been content. There's a difference." He took the bottle, moved over to the concrete bench, and sat down. "You want to just be content?" He patted the space next to him.

She walked over and joined him, holding her hand out for the bottle. "Xander said I was afraid."

"He would. He's found happiness with Miss Vengeance and is thinking he has the inside road to truth, is all." He grabbed the bottle back from her. "Not all at once, Summers, or you're buying the next round."

"He said Riley was once in a lifetime."

"He probably is. Once in anybody else's lifetime. He's the white picket fence and the mewling brats guy. He's the stalwart family man. And that's the life you're aiming for is it?"

She drank again. "Shut up."

"Well excuse me, but I don't know of any slayers living the American dream. Your life is likely to be short. Fact of slayer life. Do you want to live it in gingham check or in black leather?"

She thought for a moment then turned to him. "Huh?"

"Domestic bliss doesn't go with a nocturnal existence, Buffy." He leaned toward her to take the bottle back. "You know that and I know that." He got up and walked away from her.

"Do you love me, Spike?"

He'd been waiting for the question. He looked over his shoulder to see her watching him defiantly. "Yes." He made his tone deliberately casual.

"Do you want me?" She rose and moved toward him with a predator's walk.

"Yes." He hoped his voice was steady as she rubbed up against him. God the smell of her was enough to drive him mad. He fought hard to keep his face human. 

Her mouth was on his neck. "Is this what you want?" 

He felt her teeth nip him. Realized he would be lost soon. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away slightly so she had to look up at him. "Yes." He pulled her back to him, kissed her hard. He tried to make it a good one since it might be all he ever got of her.

She kissed him back angrily. She was so strong. She was so hurt, and she would make him hurt, too. That was okay with him. He pulled her hair, and she gasped in surprise. Then he backed off.

She looked at him in confusion as he turned away from her. "You want this. You said so."

"I want you more than this. Go home, Buffy."

Disbelief colored her features. "You can't send me home. You want me. I can feel it."

He walked to his chair, flopped into it. "I'm not playing, Summers. Go home." He looked at her and took in her confusion with a huge surge of satisfaction. "And quit moping. You did the right thing. You have a destiny, a huge important destiny. Riley Finn was a good, normal guy. But he had no place in your life. I know it. He knew it. And most of all you know it. Now go home and sleep and cry if you have to. But get over this. You won't be any good to anyone this way."

She let out a breath, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out who to trust, him or Xander. Finally she looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. Her hand reached out to him. "Spike?"

"Go home. You've had a lot to drink. Sleep it off. The world needs you."

She nodded, turned, and left without saying another word. 

As the door shut behind her he closed his eyes tightly, hands clenched into tight fists as he fought the urge to run after her. "The world needs you, Buffy. And I need you," he whispered.

He sat for a long time like that before finally picking up the remote to turn the TV back on. 

FIN


	2. A View of the Woods (Another "Into the Woods" coda--this time from the view of her friends)

The last bets were in, the cards were down, and Anya won…again. Willow threw in her hand with a sigh—her luck sucked tonight. "Explain to me why we like to play this game 'cause I'm forgetting."

"You say that every time you lose." Anya pulled the chips toward her pile. She turned to Xander, a proud smile on her face. "Why can't we play with real money?"

"Because we don't want to give you all of ours, Ahn." Xander shook his head indulgently as he dealt the next hand. "I think that greed is a good sign. More human."

"Demons are often greedy," Tara said gently as she tossed in her opening chip.

"And it's not human the way she wins all the time." Was Anya cheating in some kind of ex-demony way?

"Hey, I'm sitting right here, people." Anya scowled, then looked at the cards Xander had dealt her. A big smile transformed her face.

"Okay, I'm out." Xander threw in his hands.

"Me, too," Willow and Tara said together.

"But I want to win more chips. This isn't fun anymore."

Willow got up and walked to the kitchen. "Who wants more Coke?" She looked at Tara first and was rewarded with a fond smile and slight nod. 

"I'm good here." Xander leaned back on the couch, pulling Anya with him.

"I guess this means the game is over?" She sulked for a moment then chuckled as he blew in her ear. "That tickles."

"Guys, please, we're impressionable young women." Willow handed Tara her drink and sat down next to her on the floor. They leaned into each other slightly.

"Oh, yeah, real impressionable." Xander laughed. 

They fell silent for a moment, two couples enjoying the evening together. Tara was the first to speak. "It'll be weird. Not having Riley around, I mean. It was always the six of us."

Anya's expression darkened. "Buffy will be depressed and we'll have to be nice to her all the time." She yelped as Xander swatted her arm. "What? I remember how boring and sad she was after Parker. Like I didn't get enough of that working for all those centuries with scorned women?"

"But this time she was the one who did the scorning," Willow said softly.

"A technicality. On the other hand we won't have to babysit Dawn." She cuddled up to Xander. "That could be a very good thing."

"I don't know. I'll miss the Dawnster."

Tara looked at Xander. "I'm still not clear on why Riley left?" 

"Things weren't working out with Buffy." Xander took a quick swallow of his soda.

"Well, how could they? He was paying vampire women to suck his blood. Not good for the relationship." Willow shook her head.

"Why would he do that?" Tara grimaced. "I mean that's so skanky."

"Men are skanky," Anya said with a knowing look. "Be glad you're with her."

"Objection." Xander shot her the glare that often brought her back in line to Willow's amazement.

Tara ran her hand through her hair. "Getting back to Riley. Why did he do that? I mean really."

"He's been under a lot of stress," Willow said. "The whole initiative thing was hard on him. Then losing his super powers. I think he thought he was going to lose Buffy, too."

"He knew she didn't love him." Xander's face became sad. "He loved her so much. I mean she was everything to him. And he was just so resigned about it. So matter-of-factly certain that she didn't love him."

"You mean like she loved someone else?" Tara looked confused.

Willow pursed her lips, nodded sadly, "Angel."

"Angel." Xander repeated with a sneer.

"Well, and Spike," Anya said without looking up.

"What?" Three faces looked at her incredulously.

"You mean you haven't seen it? He's always at her house, or with her. They were out the other night at the Bronze. I dropped by with some mugwort and damiana for one of the waitresses, and I saw them there, playing pool, being all rough with each other. It was pretty obvious what was going on."

"What was the waitress going to do with mugwort and damiana?" 

"Will, let's stay on topic, huh?" Xander turned to Anya. "And you didn't tell me this why?"

"Why do you care what Spike and Buffy do? And when did you and Riley become such good pals anyway?"

"I liked the guy."

Willow shook her head.

"What? I did."

"You just liked him better than Angel."

"I'd like Jack the Ripper better than Angel, Will, that's really not relevant."

Willow looked at Tara. "This all goes back to when Xander had a crush on Buffy, but she liked Angel instead." 

Tara nodded knowingly.

"You liked Buffy?" Anya did not sound happy.

Xander closed his eyes for a moment. Then he leaned in and whispered something in her ear that caused her expression to change from mild irritation to satisfaction. He turned back to the other two. "We were talking about Riley."

Tara smiled mischievously, "Actually we were talking about Spike."

Xander scowled at her. "I have two words to say on that. No. Friggin'. Way."

"That's three." Willow laughed.

"The middle one doesn't count, it's a swear…"

"Word. That's three."

"Ok, three." Xander shook his head in disgust. "Buffy and Spike? Uh-uh. Not gonna happen."

Silence fell again. Tara looked at Willow and whispered a little too loudly, "They'd be kinda cute together."

Xander pushed Anya away and rose quickly. "Ok, it's been great seeing you two. So sorry you have to be going."

Willow stood, then held out her hand to pull Tara up. "If there's really something going on, not talking about it isn't going to make it go away."

"Doesn't have to go away, because it hasn't happened. Nothing has happened."

Willow nodded, leaned in, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "If you say so. And you're being a spaz again. You wanted me to tell you if you started acting all spazzy."

"Okaay. Thanks." He picked up their glasses. "This was fun. Let's do it again real soon. And when we do, let's not talk about our friends, okay?"

"Then what will we talk about?" Anya asked with a look of true confusion.

"Other things. You know. Current events, foreign affairs."

"Well this would be—a foreign affair, I mean." Tara grinned at him. "Spike's British."

"We're going now." Willow laughed as she scooped up their jackets and pulled Tara toward the door. "Say goodnight, Tara."

"Night." 

##

Anya could hear Willow and Tara laughing as they walked down the hallway. She stood for a moment as Xander started picking up glasses and plates and the poker chips, then she joined him. 

"Xander, are you really upset that Riley is gone?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Doesn't matter to me, right?"

"It seems to though. Why?"

"I just think she threw away a good man. Threw away the right man."

She looked at him seriously for a long moment. "What if she wasn't in love with him?"

He looked very grim. "What if she doesn't know what love is." He put down the chips and walked into the bedroom. 

Anya stared after him. "What if you don't?" she whispered. The things he'd said to her had been so nice but what if they came from a part of him that just didn't want to be alone—or make the same mistake Buffy had made.

Even if Anya thought she and Xander were way more solid than Buffy and Riley ever were. Any fool could see that Angel was going to be a problem—and now Spike. She didn't care what the others said, there was definitely something going on with those two.

She thought for a bit, then picked up the glasses. The sound of the ice cubes chinking against each other rang out in the silent apartment. She liked this simple domesticity, doing for her man—and he'd do for her some other day.

He called to her from the bedroom. "Leave that stuff, Anya. Come to bed. I need to hold you."

She stood, considering, looking at the front door then back at the bedroom door. 

"Anya?"

She walked to the front door and gripped the handle. If she ran now, she could never be hurt. She'd never tell Xander that she had doubts about them, but the thought pounded like a metronome inside her. "He'll hurt you. He'll hurt you."

But he said he loved her. That she made him feel special—like a man. He wouldn't hurt her, not when he could say those things? 

"Anya, everything ok?"

She let go of the door handle and slide the deadbolt home, then turned off the lights. "Yeah," she said softly, a wistful expression on her face. "Everything's fine."

FIN


	3. Visiting Hours (After "Into the Woods")

Joyce woke slowly. There was someone in her room. She looked over and saw him sitting quietly in the chair. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long," he leaned toward her and took the hand she held out to him.

She smiled at the sound of his dear voice, the familiar British accent. She saw his shy smile and the way he looked away. She let go of his hand and pushed herself up against the pillows. "You don't have to come, you know."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Oh, and I brought you something." He dug into a white paper bag. "Decaf mocha, from the Espresso Pump. Figured you might be wanting one of these about now."

She smiled as she pulled off the lid, took a tentative taste. "Ummm. Heaven. You're going to spoil me."

"Seems to me you've earned it." He leaned back. "I heard you're going home tomorrow. Buffy will be relieved."

"She's been amazing through this."

"She has."

Joyce frowned. "She was so distant tonight though. I'm worried about her." She looked at him accusingly. "Do you know what's wrong."

"She'll tell you when she's ready." He looked faintly guilty. "I haven't done a very good job of watching over her. I know I told you I would, but I've just made things worse."

"You have her best interest at heart. I know how much you care for her." She studied the man across from her. Theirs had been a rocky relationship. First she had hated him for trying to hurt her daughter. Then, as she came to know him, she realized he would never hurt Buffy. That she meant the world to him and he would defy all convention to protect her. She suspected that he would even die for her if need be. She trusted him with her daughter. But they had also forged a friendship of their own. One that nobody else knew about because they kept it private, between themselves. 

"I haven't seen Riley around." Joyce watched his face turn to stone. "That's what's wrong isn't it? Riley."

"Could be." He seemed desperate to change the subject. "Your hair looks okay…I mean they didn't take much."

She reached up to the bandage self-consciously. "Buffy brought me a wig, but I don't think I need it."

"You don't. You look good."

She smiled. "You'd say that if I looked like the creature from the black lagoon."

He grinned. "You know his ugliness wasn't so bad once you got to know him."

Her smile widened. "Right." 

"That didn't come out quite the way I meant it." He ran his hand over his hair, which was perfect as usual. Why did he do that, she wondered, nervous affectation or just the fear that he wouldn't look quite right?

"Getting back to Buffy," she shifted in bed so she could see him better. "Did she break up with Riley? Because they didn't seem to be getting along very well."

"Can't hide anything from you, Joyce." He got up and began to pace.

"You never really liked him did you?"

He turned, paced back to the chair. "Never really thought he was good enough for her."

"You'll laugh at me for saying this. I mean I'm her mother, I should have been thrilled to see her with such a nice guy. But he always seemed a bit tame for her."

"You know her too well, Joyce."

"Or maybe I just know myself. She's a lot like me, even if I never haunted cemeteries waiting to poke a sharp stick in some demon's heart."

"Don't knock that, it's highly underrated, you know." He smiled mischievously at her.

She gave him a knowing smirk. "I'm sure it is." She yawned.

"I'd better be going. Don't want to tire you out before your big release day." He held out his hand. "Best give me the cup, can't leave evidence just lying around."

"She grinned at him. "Wouldn't want to get caught."

"Not when we've been so careful." He leaned over her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. Then he took his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on.

She looked at the black leather enviously. "I want a coat like that."

"You've got to work years for the bad buys before you get a coat like this." He laughed. "Ok, well I've gotta go cause havoc, mayhem, you know," he held his hands up in a threatening way and changed to his vamp face. "Grrrr."

She just laughed. "Right, well you go do that."

His face changed back and he nodded. "Or maybe I'll just go make sure that Buffy is safe."

"That would probably be a much better activity." She smiled at him fondly. "Good night, Spike. Thanks for coming to see me." Suddenly very tired, she leaned back, closed her eyes.

"Good night, Joyce." He didn't leave until her breathing became the deep peaceful rhythm of sleep.

FIN


	4. Watch Me (After "Into the Woods")

The light was still on in the Magic Box, but the door wouldn't budge. She tried it again. Knock, she finally realized. She just wanted to break the lock but instead tapped gently, then a little louder on the door. 

"Just a moment," she heard faintly from inside the shop, then the unmistakable sound of the lock being pulled back and the door opened.

"Buffy?" Her watcher stood in the doorway, blocking her way.

She resisted the urge to push him aside. "Can I come in?"

His concerned expression changed instantly to wariness. "Do you need me to say that?"

Her exhaustion turned to irritation. "Oh for God's sake, Giles. I'm not a vamp. Now get out of my way before I move you out of my way."

"Yes, quite," he moved aside hastily as she pushed past him. "This is a surprise. Come to train?"

"Um-huh." She mumbled, not stopping on her way to the back room. 

"Bad night?" 

"You could say that." She saw him follow her in, standing silently as he watched her. He pushed his glasses up automatically and the movement caused her a momentary pang. So familiar. Next he would cross his arms and look at her in solemn concern. She had never known Riley this well. Would never know him this well. She dropped her purse at the edge of the mat, pulled off her sweater. The punching bag was now Riley. She landed several solid blows. 

"I take it you don't want to talk about it?"

She spun, her foot connected to the bag with a thud. Xander, the bag was Xander. "Nope." She rained lightning blows on the canvas, hit it until her hands hurt. Now it was Spike. Her feet connected again and again. Strong legs making the bag fly. 

"Right, then." Giles walked to the doorway leading into the shop. "I'm just going to finish up out here. If you need me…"

"I know where you are," she replied without pausing from her workout. 

"Yes." He closed the door.

She felt tears threaten and blinked them back furiously. The bag wasn't Giles at least. She took another swipe at it, saw Angel's face there. Why did her leave her? Five well placed punches and his face disappeared. She stopped and the heavy bag swung back at her. She caught it easily, stopped its motion without effort. "Angel." She whispered as she hugged the bag tightly. "Angel."

##

Giles listened to the sounds from the other room. Heard the rhythmic thumps stop and turn to dead silence. He agonized over whether to go in to her. "Best to let her get it out of her system," he decided aloud. But his heart hurt as he turned back to his account books to finish reconciling the day's till. 

He was halfway done when the door opened. Buffy stood in the doorway watching him. He glanced at her, could tell she'd been crying, but her face now was expressionless. 

How much more could she take? How much more would the powers that be make her undergo?.

"Buffy?" 

"Is it me, Giles?"

"Is what you?"

She walked to the counter andfaced him, the glass top between them. "Do I chase them away? Or destroy them somehow?"

"Buffy…"

"No, I mean, look at Angel, he went all the way to LA to get away from me."

Giles remembered the worrisome phone call he had received from Cordelia. He couldn't tell Buffy about that. She didn't need to know yet that Angel might be returning to his evil ways. He wrenched his mind back to what she was saying.

"And what about Scott or Parker? And let's not even start on Riley." She looked at him. "Is it me?"

He shook his head. "No." He studied the young woman in front of him. And she was a woman now. He remembered when he'd first met her. She'd been a girl then, so full of enthusiasm, so energetic in her quest for life. He compared that vision to the Buffy he saw before him. The woman who had seen too much life at such a young age. Or too much death. 

He slipped the receipts and cash into a bank bag. The books could wait until tomorrow. Shoving the bag into the secret compartment under the cash register that Xander had built for him, he walked around the counter to where she stood. He motioned with his head to the table. "Let's sit for a bit, hmm?" 

She let him lead her to the table and dropped into a chair. He took the one next to it and turned it to face her.

"Buffy. I'm your watcher. I'm supposed to give you answers and help you. But I can't help you with this. Not with romance. Look at me? Am I any kind of role model for you in that?"

She smiled sadly. "I guess not. Why do other people get to be happy?"

"I don't know. I've often wondered that myself."

"Do you think I would have been happy with Riley?"

He thought carefully before he answered. "You might have been."

"That's not an answer, Giles."

"Yes it is. Because being happy, well that's up to us, isn't it? If we find the right person we still may not be happy. Sometimes it is easier to be happy with the wrong person. Because they never challenge us."

"Riley didn't challenge me?" She sighed heavily. "Why was everything so hard with him if he didn't challenge me?"

"Things weren't hard with Angel?"

She answered immediately. "No. I mean yes it was hard knowing he was a vampire, and then when he turned that was awful. And when he came back, knowing we couldn't be together, that was horrible. But loving him? Loving him was never anything but effortless. Loving Riley felt like something that I thought I should do."

"I see."

"But maybe that's what we are supposed to want. The good man, the nice guy."

"Yes well it's a bit of a cliché by now but nobody seems to want the nice guy."

He studied her as she spoke. Watched her tension ease up a little and the life come back to her face. He was very worried about her. Had been for some time. She was on the verge of darkness. Not the demony kind of darkness that she feared she might descend to, the one that Dracula had taunted her with. But the apathetic darkness of not caring if she lived or died—and that usually signaled the end was near for a slayer. He didn't want to lose her. The world needed her, he and her family and friends needed her. He probably needed her the most of all.

"Spike's in love with me." 

"Good God!" The words were out before he could stop them. But of course, he realized, a lot of things suddenly made sense. "How do you feel about that?"

"Giles, it's Spike."

"And…"

She ran her hand through her hair. "And nothing. He's a vampire. I mean one without a soul. Unless you count the chip. But we're not, counting the chip I mean. And anyway, this is Spike we're talking about."

"And you feel nothing for him?"

She pushed back in her chair and pulled up her knees so she could wrap her arms around them. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

He sighed. What was the attraction that she held for vampires? And vice versa. He could see there was something there, something she didn't want to face. "You're right. It's none of my business." 

He began to rise. Her next words stopped him short. 

"Would it be wrong?"

"You mean Spike?"

"Yeah." Her tone was petulant and defiant. She sounded like a lost child. Or like Faith. He wasn't sure which image disturbed him more.

"I think that's up to you to decide." 

"That's such a watcher thing to say, Giles. Can't you just tell me yes or no."

He smiled at her fondly. "No, Buffy. I wish I could. But I can't." He got up and began to walk to the counter then turned back to her. He knew his expression was one of distaste. "But Spike? Really, Buffy."

She laughed as she stood up and walked back into the training room. Soon he heard the normal thwacks and thumps that indicated she was feeling better.

##

Buffy took another deep breath. The air was so much fresher at night. That was one of the reasons she had turned down Giles' offer to drive her home. She loved to walk. This was her town and walking it let her know it was going to be fine, for at least one more night. Plus, how would Spike follow her around if she were in a car? It would be so much harder for him to keep up. She toyed with the idea of calling to him, putting an end to this charade. But no. Better to let him think he was too stealthy for her. Better to leave him in the shadows. She wasn't ready for anything else. And she knew, deep down, that calling to him would be the end of this current phase they were in. If she called him out, she'd have to kill him or love him. There was no middle ground right now. 

Just to annoy him she decided to run. She loved the feeling of her own blood singing in her veins. Of the wind on her face and the strength of her legs as they pounded the sidewalk. She listened for him, could barely make out his slightly different steps. But he was keeping up with her. Even Riley at his best couldn't keep up with her when she really ran. 

Laughing inside she turned it up a notch, ran full out. He was still behind her. She slowed abruptly. God, what was she doing? Was this some kind of test? She heard his footsteps slow behind her. 

Not even breathing hard, she continued to walk. Her house came in sight and she smiled. Her mom would be home tomorrow. Dawn had been so excited. She was too young to be without a mother. Buffy wasn't a good substitute, although she would have tried. She hoped Dawn was asleep now. That Willow and Tara had worn her out with tales of spells and glamours. 

Her attention was wrenched suddenly back to the here and now by the sound of footsteps coming up on her fast. She spun and saw Spike approaching in that quick swaggering way he did so well. He stopped in front of her and lit a cigarette. 

"Evening, Summers."

"Spike." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Lemme guess. Out for a stroll again?"

"Right on one." He took a deep drag and blew some smoke rings. "Just thought I'd say hi, you know, since I was in the neighborhood."

"How human of you." 

He nodded as if in agreement with her assessment. "So. How's your mum?"

"She's coming home tomorrow." 

He smiled. His smile seemed genuine. "Really? That's great. So she's alright then?"

"Looks like." She heard the door open on the porch. Turned to see Willow and Tara staring out, surprised looks on their faces. "Hey, guys."

Willow found her voice first. "Hey, Buffy. Spike."

"Red." He nodded to Tara. "Tara."

She smiled back. Willow just looked perplexed.

"Spike happened to be in the neighborhood but he was just leaving." Buffy turned to look at him and realized that it sounded like she was covering for him. Which she was, but not for the reason they might think. 

He gave her a smirk. "Yeah, I was just leaving." He stubbed out his cigarette with his heel. As he passed her he said softly, "Night, doll."

She ignored him and the small spark of excitement she felt, the one she always felt when she was around him. Of all the people she knew; he made her feel the most alive. Ironic. She bounded up the stairs to her waiting friends. "So is Dawn asleep?" 

As she turned to close the door she saw him across the street still watching her. Their eyes met and held for a moment before she closed the door firmly on the night.

FIN


	5. Gossip (After "Into the Woods" and Angel "Reunion")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a post-ep more for Angel season 2 than Buffy, but the gossip is about Buffy characters, so I'll leave it in here.

"Wesley, I know that he said we were fired. But I'm sure he didn't mean it. I think he meant it more in the way that I say you're a useless waste of air? Uh, yeah, that was a joke. God, Wesley, please. Crap, someone's at the door. Can I call you right back?"

Cordelia hung up the phone and hurried over to the door. She pulled back the extra security lock that she had asked Angel to install after Faith's visit. The lock immediately slammed back into place. She sighed and pulled it back again. It stayed open only a second before locking again. 

"Phantom Dennis," she hissed. "I don't need this right now."

She pulled the lock and this time it stayed open. She opened the door to the length the little security chain of the second security lock would allow. "Look I'm really busy and—Harmony?"

"Hey, Cordy. It's been like forever and I was missing you. Can I come in?"

Cordelia shook her head in stunned silence.

"Oh, c'mon, Cordy. Let me in. We have so much to catch up on."

"Yeah like the fact that you're a vampire?" Cordelia began to close the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm a vampire. But this is important, Cordelia. Please?"

Sighing, she pulled the door back open. "What?"

"I need to get a message to Angel."

"You? Need to get a message to Angel? How do you even know him?"

"Everybody knows him. In my new circles I mean. And Spike talked about him."

"Spike?"

Harmony smiled sadly. "Before I lost him. He threw me out, can you believe that?"

"You. And Spike? And you made fun of me and Xander?"

"Spike is totally cool. Or he was before everything happened."

"Uh huh." Cordelia knew her face lacked any sympathy. "Look Harmony, I'm not exactly sure where Angel is at the moment. But give me the message and I'll make sure he gets it."

She seemed unsure. Cordelia shook her head in frustration and began to close the door. Harmony's hand came out. "Okay, okay. Just tell him Spike and Buffy."

"Spike and Buffy what?"

Harmony scowled. "You know. Together."

"No. Way."

"Way." 

"I thought she was with some Rigby guy?"

"Riley. And he's gone. Spike had something to do with that. It's just too bizarre." Harmony looked extremely pissed. "I mean why would he pick her when he could have me?"

"Yeah." Cordelia shifted a bit to get a better view of her former friend. Being a vampire had done nothing for her fashion sense. "So why do you think Angel would care?"

"Well, everybody knows he's totally in love with Buffy. He's not going to be happy. Maybe he'll come and take care of this once and for all."

Harmony was still so out of touch, Cordelia laughed to herself. Between Darla and Drusilla, Angel had pretty much put his little prison slayer and pen pal, Faith, much less the more distant Buffy out of his mind. "Thanks for dropping by, Harmony. I'll be sure to tell Angel."

"You're sure I can't come in?" Harmony held up a large magazine, tried to look innocent. "I have this month's _W_. And I'd love to see your new apartment and reminisce." 

"Buh-bye." Cordelia closed the door firmly ignoring the other woman's continued entreaties. She hurried to the phone and dialed Wesley. He picked up immediately. "You aren't going to believe who that was."

"Shall I try to guess?"

"No. It was Harmony Kendall."

"Good lord. Your blonde friend from high school. Isn't she a vampire now?"

"Yes. And she actually thought I wouldn't know that. Hello, vision girl working for big undead do-gooder guy."

"What did she want?"

"That's the weird part. She wanted me to give Angel a message."

"You didn't tell her we were fired?"

"Of course not, Wesley. Yeesh."

"What was the message?"

"Buffy and Spike."

"Buffy and Spike what?"

"That's exactly what I said. Buffy and Spike are together."

"I don't believe that."

"Why not? She went out with Angel."

"Yes, but he has a soul."

"And Spike has a chip. One that won't stop working if he's momentarily happy if you get my drift."

"Ohhhh."

"Yeah."

"We can't tell Angel this."

"Of course not."

"Not that we could anyway, I'm not sure where he is."

"Staking his little family, hopefully. What if Drusilla gets wind of this?"

"Who would tell her?"

"Harmony."

"We haven't been able to find her I doubt that Harmony will."

"You're probably right. So have you heard from Gunn?"

##

The room was smoky and very dark. Darla watched as the blonde vampire walked up to the brunette standing behind the bar. "I'm looking for Drusilla."

"Never heard of her," the woman replied.

"It's very important."

"Sorry," the brunette turned and busied herself with the inventory.

The vampire slumped on a barstool. "Do you have anything fresh back there?"

She rose and walked to the bar. "It's on me. Give her the good stuff." She looked at the vampire, then played with a lock of the vampire's long blonde hair. "You're new around here. And you're looking for Drusilla?"

The vampire grimaced and jerked away. "Do you know where she is?" 

"Maybe." She reached for the vampire's hair again.

"Look, this isn't funny." The vampire's face changed as her frustration grew. 

She just laughed. Felt her own face change; saw the other vampire look frightened. "I agree. Not funny at all." She reached out to stroke the hair, felt the girl tremble under her touch. "Mmmm, you're very young. What's your name?"

"Harmony." 

"A pretty name. Mine's Darla."

"The Darla?" The vampire seemed to know her.

"Yes."

"You know Spike, then. And Drusilla, you're her grandsire."

"Well, it's become a bit more complicated than that," she laughed. "Why do you want Drusilla? Is it about Spike?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me when I say if it's bad news you don't want to deliver it yourself. Tell me and I'll tell her."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Darla grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked Harmony towards here. "How do you know that you can't."

"Good point," Harmony whimpered as Darla released her. "Spike's in love with the slayer."

"With Buffy? That slayer?"

"Uh-huh."

Darla felt rage war with amusement. Spike, killer of slayers, in love with one? With that one? Drusilla would not take this well. Neither would Angel. "Who else have you told?"

Harmony looked terrified that her answer would be the wrong one. "I told Cordelia, she works for Angel."

"I know who she is."

"Oh. I told her to tell Angel."

"She won't. She'll protect him. Besides she doesn't work for him now." 

Harmony's face fell. "I wanted him to know too."

Darla laughed. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be sure to let him know. Now you drink up and run on home to Sunnydale. You may see us there sometime soon."

Harmony gulped and looked less than pleased at the news. She left the bar without even finishing her drink. 

The woman behind the counter reached for the glass but stopped when Darla said, "Hate to let this go to waste, especially when it's on me." She drained the blood and handed it back. "So what did you think of the news?" she asked as she watched her sire carry the glass to the sink. "Spike and Buffy, quite the surprise?"

The glass in Dru's hand broke as she began to keen. "All dirty, all dirty. The young prince has fled the kingdom." 

Darla walked around the bar and forced Drusilla's hand open. She picked bits of glass out of the skin and once the hand was clear, lifted it to her mouth and sucked gently. Drusilla began to purr.

"We'll get the prince back, my princess. You'll see." 

"When the King and Queen are all put together again?" 

"Just exactly," Darla said, stroking her cheek. "Now, let's get out of here. I've had enough of this place and the service here is terrible." She laughed as she pulled Dru over the drained body of the bartender and out the back way.

FIN


	6. Little Girl's Eyes (post-ep to "Checkpoint")

I wish I knew what they were talking about when they talk about me. I keep missing the really important part of the conversation. I come in too late, or they hear me and stop too soon. I really want to know what's going on. Because I think it has to do with me. And I don't think it's good. 

Buffy's been acting funny for a while now. Real protective of me. When before I always felt like if she could throw me out of the car without Mom noticing she would have totally done it. But not anymore. She completely freaks when I want to go over to my friend's house. I mean totally overreacts. 

"When will you be back?" "Why can't she come here?" "Don't you have homework to do?"

She's really weirding me out. But that's not the bad part. 

The bad part was earlier today. When I came downstairs and that girl was in our living room. She was pretty, and she smelled really good. And she seemed to understand how Buffy leaves me out. Her words and the way Buffy ordered me upstairs made me mad. But that's not the bad part either.

The bad part was that she made Buffy scared. I've never seen my sister scared. I mean she's the Slayer, she's supposed to just fight and win and stuff. But this girl really got to her. And Buffy didn't even try to fight her. It was like there was just no point. And that scared me. That was bad. Because there's nothing that she can't fight. Is there?

I was still on the stairs when I heard Mom come out and ask Buffy who that girl was. I never heard the answer because Mom suddenly came hurrying up the stairs. "Pack some stuff," she said. "We're going to stay awhile with one of Buffy's friends."

I was like, "Why? I don't want to stay with her friends, I want to stay here." Although Xander's would have been an okay place to end up. But why were we going now? It wasn't like Buffy had a boyfriend to boink anymore. 

But Mom was not in a reasonable mood. "Dawn, now." So I grabbed some stuff, and my book, and my diary, and came down. Buffy made me get my homework too. Man, I really don't like the responsible Slayer act. Then we left. But it was weird. First she had us drive around town to make sure that we weren't being followed. 

Like hello? Do any of her enemies ever drive? Riley was the only one that even had a car. Well except for Mr. Giles. It took Buffy a gazillion times to pass her driver's test and even then I say it was a pity pass. And she still doesn't drive if she can help it. She's always walking or running or whatever. It's kinda weird if you ask me. 

So anyway we drove all over the place and then she had us go into the cemetery and I was thinking this could be cool and maybe I was going to see her slay something, but then she had us go to this crypt thing and she opened the door like she'd been before. 

It was so skanky in there. It smelled funny, all musty and smoky. And there was not much in the way of furniture. Mom and I just sort of stood by the door while Buffy talked to that Spike guy that's always hanging around our house. 

He's kind of cute but scary, too. I mean they don't say it, but I figured out that he was a vampire by the things Buffy says to him. "I'll stake you." "Kiss daylight." That kind of thing. 

They argued for a while, just like they always do. Then she said something and he got that dippy expression he gets when she doesn't know he's watching her only this time she was looking right at him and then he was telling us to come in. I was thinking no way were we going to stay there but Buffy was serious. And Mom was going along with this. It was such a nightmare.

So here I am, sitting on Spike's bed with its satin cover and I'm freezing. I've been trying to do my homework and ignore the fact that he and Mom were like totally bonding over _Passions_. And now they're over there whispering about something and I know it's me but no matter how hard I try I can't make out what they are saying. But I think it's about that girl, the one that made Buffy scared. 

I really wish I knew what was going on. I'm trying to write it all down so that later I can go back and figure it out. Maybe I've missed something. 

I remember what that girl was asking Buffy for; she kept saying she wanted "the key." She thought Buffy had it, or knew where it was. It's kind of a weird thing to want so bad. Couldn't she just call in a locksmith or something?

I bet Buffy is over with Mr. Giles right now talking about it. He knows something about this, too. He was talking to Mom and Buffy that night when he got back from England. That night they were talking about me. Only I came too late to hear anything. I always come too late.

This place sucks. There's nothing to eat or to drink. And I don't like Spike. I wish I were at Xander's. I wouldn't complain about Anya always winning at Life. Or at Willow and Tara's. They are so cool. Or even with Riley. I wish Riley would come back and make it all better. I wonder if he were here would Buffy have brought us to Spike? 

She said he could protect us. I heard that. I think she meant from that girl that came over. But Spike can't hurt humans. I heard Xander and Anya talking about him once. They didn't know I'd already figured out he was a vampire so they were trying to be quiet only Anya isn't very good at that. They said he had some kind of chip in his head that made him not dangerous for humans. So, even though she looked normal, that girl must not be human. That's weird. But then what isn't in my life? I wish I had a normal sister and a normal life in a normal town. One where my Dad lived with us, too, and I didn't have to sit in some icky tomb while my Mom had some deep conversation with some punked-out vampire. 

But I'll never have that because I'm the Slayer's sister. So I guess I should just suck it up. 

I still wish I knew what they were talking about, though.

FIN


	7. Crushed (Post-Ep for "Crush")

The slayer closed the door carefully as Spike looked on aghast from the front porch.

"He didn't sound as if he thought it was over."

Buffy stiffened as her mother's voice sounded behind her. "I made it clear. I think the spell on the door was a big clue, too." She turned to look at her mom and took in the dark circles under her eyes, the worried lines on her forehead. "It's going to be okay, Mom."

"He knows about Dawn, Buffy." 

"He'd never hurt me." Dawn came out from the dining room where she'd obviously been listening.

"Dawn, get to bed." Buffy and her mother said in unison. 

"Well, he wouldn't." 

"Yes, Dawn, he would. He's a vampire. An evil, undead thing. Can you possibly put aside your little schoolgirl crush on him long enough to get that straight?"

Dawn just shook her head. "You really are the stupidest even if you are the Slayer." She hurried up the stairs and slammed her door.

"Dawn?" Joyce's voice was worried.

"Mom, just leave her alone. If she wants to sulk let her."

"Buffy."

"What? Why is this always about Dawn? Protect Dawn, find Dawn, keep Dawn happy. Well I'm sick of it." She slammed her fist into the mantle, knocking a picture of the three of them off. The glass shattered as it hit the hearth. "Great."

Joyce carefully picked up the frame. She looked at the unharmed picture and shook her head. "She's real, Buffy, you can't make her go away."

"This isn't about her, Mom. It's about me. I have this psycho vamp building little Buffy shrines and dressing up his half of a life size slayer doll and god how I don't want to know what he does with that during the day." 

"Honey, I know you've had a lot to handle lately and that this is upsetting. But it's really nothing compared to what Dawn is going through." Joyce reached out for her, but Buffy shrugged away. 

"Yeah, thanks for the almost sympathy Mom. I've got to clean up that glass. Wouldn't want Dawn to cut herself."

As she left the room to get the broom she heard her mother's exasperated, "Buffy." She ignored it.

##

"Why..." Spike hit the other vampire hard. 

"Do I..." His foot connected heavily and the larger creature slammed into the wall.

"Even..." Spike grabbed a piece of wood from the dumpster next to him.

"Try?" He slammed the stake home and there was dust, then quiet. 

He spun to look at the three other vampires. "So? You want to take on Spike the Impotent? You want to get your jollies fighting the Laughingstock of the Undead?"

One of them, a blonde woman, came forward timidly. "You killed our leader. We would be your minions now. Let us serve you."

His hand reached out to caress her short golden curls. "Don't need servants. Good people don't have minions." His fingers tightened on her hair. "They have reflections, and feelings, and no bloody chip in their head."

The woman's head was being yanked around as he gestured wildly. "Ouch, Master."

He let her go in disgust. "Get out of here." She stared up at him in confusion. "Now. Before I stake you all." 

"But, how will we...?" She backed away as he glared at her and raised the stake, then took off running. The others followed her.

"Damn you, Buffy." Spike threw down the stake and kicked through the garbage that lay piled around him. "Damn you to hell."

##

Buffy turned over again to check the clock. 2:45. Sleep was just not coming. She sat up, punched her pillow back into shape, threw off the comforter and settled back down. 

Tap. Click. Tap.

She ignored the sounds. 

Crack. Pop. Click-click. Snap.

She closed her eyes tightly.

Crash. Glass flew into the room.

"Damn it," she said loudly as she rushed to the window. She avoided the broken pieces until she stubbed her toe on the rock, throwing her off balance so that she accidentally put her other foot heavily into the glass. "Oh mother f—" she bit off the rest of her curse as she looked out and saw Spike in the street. 

"C'mon Slayer. I'm waiting for you. Something we didn't finish."

"You've got to be kidding. We're not doing this, Spike. Go home." She picked up the biggest pieces of the glass and tossed them into the trashcan then threw a towel over the area so she wouldn't cut herself again. She looked at what had been her window. Good thing it wasn't a cold night. Hobbling to her bed, she turned on the light. Her foot was bloody and several jagged shards were sticking out of her flesh. She pulled them out gently, then ran her finger over the rest of her foot to check for smaller pieces. As she reached into the drawer on her bedside stand she sensed movement behind her.

"If you're licking your lips, I swear I'll kill you. Now, go away, Spike."

"We have to talk."

She didn't look up at him as she wrapped her foot. "Let's talk about how you're going to pay for that window."

"Sorry about that. But I got frustrated."

"Oh, well then all's forgiven."

"Really? Can I come in, then?"

She looked out where he perched on her roof. "Nothing's forgiven. And no, you cannot come in. Never. Ever."

"Buffy. It's not like you to refuse to give someone a chance."

"Someone, Spike. You're something."

His face fell. Then he grew angry. "Wasn't something when you brought me your mom and the whelp to look after. No. I was Spike the good guy then. You know I could have trotted those two down to Glory if I'd really wanted to. Bet she has the remedy for this damn chip." He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Smoke trailed into her room.

"Do you mind? I hate that smell."

He shrugged. "Come out here and make me stop then."

"Really not interested in making you anything. Sit there all night. Fill my room with smoke. I don't care. I'm going to bed." Mentally thanking whatever deity caused her to choose pajamas over a skimpy t-shirt that night, she crawled back into bed and turned out the light.

"Why?"

Ignore him, she thought furiously to herself. She heard the sound of another cigarette lighting. Could Willow maybe do the whole block with a protection spell?

"That's what I can't figure out. Why?"

It was clear he was never going to shut up. She put the pillow over her head but his voice still droned in her ears.

"You hang out with a Watcher that used to raise nasty demons. Your girl Red almost became a demon. Xander's girl toy was a demon till she lost her powers. Hell you used to date a demon, one that killed your watcher's girlfriend and tried to destroy the entire world. Why am I so much worse?"

Buffy burrowed deeper into her mattress.

"Is it because I enjoyed what I did? I make no bones about it, pet. I loved it. Is that what bothers you?"

She sat up in exasperation. "No, Spike. What bothers me is that you are a psychopathic killer and you always will be."

"And your boy Angel's not?"

"He has a soul."

"Not on a very solid basis, he doesn't." He shifted to sit with his back to her. "And what is everyone's greatest fear?" He looked over his shoulder at her. "That he'll lose that soul and turn into Angelus again."

"Angelus is a demon."

He blew smoke slowly. "Haven't you figured out by now that there are all sorts of demons. Good ones, bad ones, in between ones."

"Vampires are nothing like the people they take over."

He stubbed out his cigarette. "Vampires are exactly like the people they take over. The personality and character that the people would be if they ever showed their fears, their perversions, their anger, their passion. Some are big bad things, others are small and easy to accept. Look at Harmony, you knew her as a human. Has she changed much?"

"That's an isolated case."

"No, it's not."

She was not going to play " is not/is too" with him. She turned over. "You killed two slayers, and that makes you a soulless fiend."

"I'm more like who I was then than you could ever know."

She laughed bitterly. "So you were an obnoxious, sadistic braggart back then, too?"

"No, I had to become that. To survive."

She mocked him, "What, Drusilla was mean to you if you were soft?"

"No, Drusilla picked me because I was soft. It was your beloved Angelus that was always looking for weakness. He and Darla were never satisfied that I was tough enough, mean enough. Not till I killed a sufficient number of people did I prove myself. But at the beginning, oh I could tell you things. Like I threw up the first times I had to drink blood. Went off by myself and lost it all. Angelus found me the last time. Beat me to a pulp. Said if he ever found me wasting blood again he'd cut off my limbs and set them on fire. Would have, too."

"Angel isn't Angelus."

He shot her a disbelieving look. "Well he's getting ever closer if Dru is to be believed. Did you know that he let a whole room full of lawyers die? Let Darla and Dru have free reign. Didn't raise a hand to stop it? Then he set his girls on fire. Nice guy, your Angel."

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

"See that's what I mean. He gets to have his reasons. But me, oh no, it's just the chip making Spike act all nice. I'd be a sodding maniac if it weren't for that."

"That pretty much covers it, Spike."

Smoke trickled into the room again as he lit another cigarette. "Who was it that saved the bloody world from Acathla?"

"That would be me."

"And who helped you, Goldilocks? Sure as hell wasn't your precious Angel."

"So you helped me then. And then you came back, found the ring of Amara, tortured Angel, then even though we sheltered you after the Initiative made you helpless, you still betrayed us to Adam."

"Yeah. Well. He was going to get this chip out. You and your friends couldn't do that."

"You're a jerk, Spike."

"I'm a jerk that loves you."

She chose to say nothing for a long moment. "Go home, Spike."

His response was so quiet she had to strain to hear it. "I'm not going to do that, Buffy. I'm going to be around, watching you or watching over you, probably depends on your perspective. If you really don't like it, if you really think you could never trust me, then come over right now and stake me. I won't stop you."

"I'm not going to stake you."

"Well, why not?" His voice rose. "Why the bloody hell not? I'm unreliable, unprincipled, a psychopathic serial killer that you can never trust. Why not put me out of my and the world's misery?" He rose on his knees and held his arms out. "Go ahead, Slayer. Kill the big bad demon." His voice rose to a shout.

Buffy's door slammed opened, and Dawn looked at them both. "What are you two doing?"

Spike looked at her seriously. "I'm trying to get your sister to slay me."

"She's not my sister and ick."

"Dawn." Buffy's voice was hard.

"You know I could just invite him in, if I wanted to."

"Don't you dare."

Dawn opened her mouth, rebellion written in the firm set of her jaw.

Spike's voice rang out. "Don't do it, niblet." Both heads turned to him. "Buffy needs to be the one to invite me back in. It has to be her decision. Now go back to bed and let us fight in peace."

Dawn turned to Buffy and scowled darkly. "You stake him and I'll never speak to you again."

"Dawn."

"I'm going." She closed the door behind her.

Buffy looked over at Spike. "You hurt her, you lay a finger on her and I'll..."

"Why would I hurt her?" His expression was truly uncomprehending. 

"Because that's what you do. You hurt people."

"No Buffy. That's what you do so well. That's your job."

She was up in a flash, reaching into the bag she had dropped by the nightstand. The stake was in her hand and she brought it down through the mystical field that kept him out. 

Spike didn't move.

At the last minute she pulled it to the right, let it slam into the roof.

He didn't move.

"Go away, Spike."

He turned his head so their eyes hers. "I love you."

"Go away before I kill you."

"I love you."

She pulled the stake free, brandished it. "I'll do it."

"Do it, then. End this. It's torment. End it now." His eyes locked with hers for a moment then he turned and offered her his back. "Do it."

The stake trembled in her hand for several seconds, then with a vicious cry she let it fall to the ground and pushed him savagely off the roof.

He landed unhurt on the grass. 

"Now go home."

He smiled happily. "You couldn't do it."

"Shut up, Spike."

"I love you too, Summers."

"I mean it."

He laughed and blew her a kiss. "I love you, Slayer."

"I hate you, Spike."

"That's great." He smiled and began to hum a song as he walked away. 

Buffy recognized "On the Street Where you Live" and grimaced. As she made her way back to bed, she muttered, "Oh, God, just kill me now."

FIN


	8. Vigil in Accustomed Places ("I Was Made to Love You"/"The Body" accompaniment)

You've sat this vigil more nights than you can count. The routine started as soon as you found out Buffy was the slayer.

No, that's a lie. She ran away as soon as you found out, and you lost her, you lost your little girl, and even though you hoped she'd come home, you didn't wait for her, not like this. The vigil started after she returned to you, a hardened and sad version of your daughter, who gradually softened as you let her back into your life—as she let you back into hers.

Losing your little girl was the worst thing you could imagine when she was just a child. Once she got older, it was even harder. But she's a slayer: they don't live long. She's died once already.

But you didn't know that at first, and back then, when you didn't fully understand what a slayer was, you were just listening for her footsteps. Proof she'd made it through another night. Because after that horrible test, after being locked in that place with that monster, you understood what a vampire might want to do to your daughter, the slayer, the killer of their kind.

Drink her. Drain her. Leave her bloodless on the floor. Leave her to wake, to kill, to drink...from you. 

In your nightmares, you're still tied up in the basement, and Buffy doesn't trick the monster: Buffy becomes the monster.

So you began to listen for the hesitation in her footsteps. The stop at the door. No key in the lock, just a soft knock. A girl no longer your daughter waiting to be invited in.

Bloodless, a bloodless version of Buffy. That is how you fear she'll die. That is how you fear she'll come back to you.

Every night, though, she comes back whole, alive. Ruddy with blood. With humanity.

You've been through hell, the two of you. There were times you thought you'd lost her for good, and not just when she ran away to L.A. But she came back, and then Dawn came and your family grew.

But through it all, Buffy was your little girl. Your baby. Your child that should have made everything perfect with Hank and didn't.

You blamed her, when he left you. You blamed her so much it felt like you were going to split open with that truth, truth you kept bottled inside because you couldn't bear to tell her that you hated her.

But you don't hate her anymore. You don't blame her, either. Hank would have found a reason to leave because that's how Hank is. Not a good husband. Not a good father.

Rupert is a better father to her. You know he'll keep on being a father and you're glad of it. She'll need him. 

You've sat this vigil more nights than you can count—only it's day now. You woke up and Buffy wasn't home. You showered, dressed, put the flowers from Brian in a vase, and got Dawn off to school, enduring some teasing from your pseudo-youngest about old people in love.

Then you sat down again. To read, to wait.

It was peaceful. It was quiet. The pages blurred.

And then this.

The door opens. Buffy comes in. She sees the flowers, such pretty flowers, even if they'll die. 

"Hey, flower-gettin' lady, want me to pick Dawn up from school?"

She turns, sees you, only not you, the other you. The you you're sharing the couch with. You sit perched in the corner, trying not to touch it—to touch you...to touch the body.

"Mom, what are you doing?" She is so beautiful. You wish you could hold on to that. More beautiful than the flowers, hopefully not as fleeting. Strong, your girl. Strong, she must be strong. Just as you've been strong, resisting the force that pulls you, that wants you to come home, to leave this life to your little girl and the body that was once you. It won't be denied for much longer.

"Mom?"

You wish she didn't have to see this. You wish it weren't so...bloodless. She won't know what to do with this, your daughter who fights evil but can't possibly fight what's happened to you.

You reach out as she rushes to the couch. Your hand goes right through her. She doesn't notice.

"Mom?"

She is pale, so pale, vampire pale. In this moment, she is dying. She is taken from you. Drained of life.

Your little girl is bleeding out.

"Mommy?"

FIN


	9. Uneasy Rest ("The Body" coda)

The cemetery was silent. It was the hour just before dawn. Spike finally felt safe being here now that he was sure the slayer was home keeping her not-sister protected. He still made his way carefully. All of the Scoobies were mad at him. No need to antagonize them by showing up where he wasn't welcome. And he knew he wouldn't be welcome here.

But the spot was deserted. Only the freshly turned dirt bore witness to the recent activity here. The headstone wasn't up yet, but he knew it was the right place. He stood awkwardly in front of the grave. He'd been the cause of so much death yet had known little reason to mourn anyone. He saw that the flowers piled onto the dirt were already starting to wilt. Suddenly it seemed very important to fix them. He knelt down and began to remove the blossoms that had yellowed. 

He should get her some new ones. Looking around, he saw that there were plenty of bouquets nearby, many with fresher flowers.

"Don't you dare."

Spike froze. He'd been fond of Joyce and all, but hearing her voice chastise him seemed a bit over the top.

"I'm really here."

He turned slowly. She really was there. He cocked his head to the side as he studied her. "Haven't seen a ghost for a good long time. Rather surprised you'd show up this way. I mean considering how you turned on me at the end."

Joyce looked chagrined. "Well, Buffy was so disturbed by your confession. I had to support her." 

He knew he was pouting. "Uh huh. Well, I thought we had a connection. You know...a bond."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

He nodded slowly, frowned. "Yeah, you are. But why are you?"

"You know why."

He raised an eyebrow at her as he snorted in derision. "Aren't you the mystical one? Cut the crap, Joyce. What do you want from me?"

"I need you to tell Buffy that I'm all right."

"Ok. Sure. I'll just take a little stroll down to your place and ring the bell and say 'Oh, hi, Buffy. Just wanted you to know your mum says she's swell.' Yeah, that's a great plan...for getting me staked." He rose and stalked away. "I've got a better idea. How about you tell her yourself."

"I can't reach her." Joyce suddenly appeared in front of him, causing him to start. She made a sheepish face. "Sorry, I'm still getting the hang of this."

"What do you mean you can't reach her?"

"She's in so much pain, Spike. It's blocking her receptivity. Same with Dawn. I go there and try to contact them, but they can't get past the grief they feel."

Spike's face grew sad as he thought of the two young women alone and hurting. Then he remembered Buffy's face as she rejected him. "Well, too bloody bad for them." Again he took off toward his crypt. 

"Spike, I'm asking for your help." Behind him, Joyce's voice was gently pleading. "Please?"

He knew he shouldn't fall for it—he was an idiot where Summers women were concerned. Oh, bugger it. His resistance was nonexistent. "Fine, what do you want me to do?"

Joyce moved closer. "Someday she'll be ready to hear this and when she is I want to you tell her that you saw me. That I came to you and I was fine. She needs to hear that. She needs to know that we go on, we don't just die." Joyce seemed very far away for a moment, then she looked at him squarely. "Tell her how proud I am of her. How proud I've always been of her. She was so strong the day I died. She doesn't think so now, but she was. Tell her how sorry I am that she had to find me that way."

"Can't have been easy for her."

"No. Not easy. And she has to take care of Dawn now, too."

"Little Bits was already confused. This isn't going to help."

"I know. You have to tell Dawn that I miss my baby. That I loved her so much. I always will. She was my daughter, no matter what. I loved her. Tell her that. Tell them both that."

"Buffy may never let me near them again, Joyce." 

"She will. Someday. I'm counting on it." When he looked at her curiously, Joyce just smiled. "I chose to come to you, Spike. I could have gone to Giles or probably to Anya." 

"Or Angel."

"Never really liked him," she said with no apparent regret.

He found himself grinning. "Just one more reason I like you so much." His grin faded. "And I did, you know. Like you."

"I know you did." She touched his hand. "Thanks for coming here to see me. It means a lot."

"I wouldn't have stayed away. You were special, Joyce."

She leaned in and laid ghostly lips on his cheek. Then she was gone.

Feeling considerably cheered, Spike whistled as he walked back to his crypt. Just before he got to the door Joyce appeared directly in front of him, again causing him to jump. "Bloody hell, Joyce! Did you forget something?"

She smiled evilly. "You didn't really think I'd go away before we had a chance to talk about that robot, did you?"

FIN


	10. A Sea Change ("Intervention" coda)

As he tried to turn over, every nerve ending in Spike's body screamed. His moan of agony echoed through the crypt. 

"Shhh," a soft voice soothed him.

"Buffy?" He tried to open his good eye but was too tired.

"No, it's Joyce." 

"Haunting me."

Her voice was gentle. "Trying to help."

"Make it stop hurting."

"I would if I could, Spike. But I can't even touch you."

"Figures. Only one who wants to can't."

"I can stay with you, though. Talk to you a while?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"You're already healing. I know it may not feel like it, but I can tell."

He grimaced as a wave of pain lanced through him.

"You were brave."

"Just knew your spawn would kill me if I told."

"That's not why you did it and you know it."

"Is so."

"Is not. And it more than makes up for helping Dawn with trying to bring me back."

"Would've been nice to see you again."

Her voice was grim. "That thing that rose was not me. Thank God Dawn reversed the spell. You can't imagine the damage it would have caused."

"It could have worked."

"That's not the point. She's an innocent. You may have compromised that."

"Oh come on. It was just a little spell."

"It was much more than that. You put her in touch with darkness. We'll just have to see what the repercussions will be."

"May not be any."

"Let's hope you're right." Her tone darkened even more.

"I thought you were here to make me feel better?"

"I am."

"Well, you're bloody lousy at it."

"Sorry."

There was a long silence. He was just about asleep when Joyce's voice in his ear startled him. He jumped as much as his torn body would allow. "Ow! Bloody hell, woman!"

"Oh. Sorry." Her voice was contrite. "It's just...well, we really need to talk about that robot again."

"I told you then and I'm telling you now, what I do with modern technology is my business."

"But the things you did...really, Spike."

"It's a machine."

"You didn't think so."

"Well, it is a machine. Who cares what I thought. Besides, it's more than willing."

"Because you programmed it to be that way."

"What's the good of having a robot if you can't program it the way you want it?"

"What about free will?"

"It's a machine, Joyce. What about that don't you get?"

"It's a machine that looks like my daughter."

"Joyce. Go. Away."

"But..."

"I need to rest. I feel like hell. And you're not helping."

"But..."

He tried to shout, it came out as a large croak. "Bugger off, Joyce. Now!"

"Fine."

He sighed and closed his eye.

"I hope you feel better soon. You're very cranky when you're hurt."

"Joyce."

"I'm gone."

He felt sleep calling to him. His thirst was also clamoring for attention. He knew that the blood would help him heal, but his stock was low and it was a cinch that no one was going to bring him any. In pain and feeling sorry for himself, Spike slipped into unconsciousness.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he heard her voice. 

"Spike, you're all covered with sexy wounds."

He struggled to sit up. It didn't hurt as much as thought it would. Joyce had been right. He was already healing. "Yeah, they feel real sexy." He moved his head so he could see her out of his right eye. "Where ya been?"

"I fell down and got confused, but Willow fixed me. She's gay."

That didn't sound right. "Will fixed you? I thought they'd melt you into scrap?"

"They were confused too." She gave him a dazzling smile. "Do you want to ravage me?"

"Give us a minute. I've got some bones need mending."

She studied him, frowning at the damage she saw. "Why did you let that Glory hurt you?"

"She wanted to know who the Key was."

She perked up. "Oh, well I can tell her that and then you won't have..."

"No!" His outburst startled her. He began to cough severely. Every hacking breath caused his body to protest. Once his lungs settled down, he continued, passionate in his demands. "You can't ever. Glory never finds out."

Her look was pure confusion. "Why?"

He took pity, his tone gentling. "Because Buffy—the other, not so pleasant Buffy—anything happened to Dawn it'd destroy her. I couldn't live with her being in that much pain." He looked down. "I'd let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did."

She was quiet, but he had the sense that she was studying him. Then she leaned into him, her lips meeting his in a kiss. A sweet, gentle kiss. Huh? His Buffy hadn't quite mastered such a subtle motion. He pulled away in suspicion. Buffy, the real Buffy, stood before him. A look he couldn't fathom on her face. She seemed harder and softer than he'd ever seen her look. He leaned in, trying to figure out what she was doing. Was this a game?

She pulled away slowly and walked away from him. His Buffy's skirt flirted with him as the Slayer moved. 

"And my robot?"

She turned. The look of revulsion on her face was unmistakable. "The robot is gone. The robot was gross and obscene."

"It wasn't supposed—"

"Don't. That thing...it wasn't even real." 

He let his head drop and felt an unaccustomed emotion fill him: shame.

She turned away, was almost to the door when she stopped again. "What you did for me and Dawn, that was real." She looked over her shoulder at him. Her look gave away nothing. "I won't forget it."

She stared at him for a moment then turned and walked out the door, closing it gently behind her.

He sat stunned. He was not completely sure what had just happened. She was mad at him, but she was grateful, too? He could still feel her lips on his. The robot had never tasted so sweet.

He pushed himself off the slab, gingerly taking the first few steps. Walking was agony but he clenched his teeth and shuffled to his refrigerator. One small container was left. He ripped it open and drank it down, not even caring that it was cold. It made him feel better, but it wasn't enough.

He walked slowly to his chair and lowered his body into the cushions. It hurt but as he sat unmoving the pain began to subside. He saw Buffy's face again, right after she kissed him.

She had looked more like a goddess at that moment than that tart Glory ever could. The slayer had been so stern, yet there was such tenderness in her eyes. He'd been in awe of her. 

Why had she come? All dressed up as his fantasy and pretending to want him. He replayed the conversation in his mind. It had been about one thing really: what he had told Glory about Dawn. She had come to him to find out, not trusting that he hadn't betrayed her. But also not sure that he had either, or she would have simply walked in and staked him. She hadn't expected to hear that he had resisted. Or to hear his reasons. And that kiss. He could live another hundred years with just the memory of that moment to sustain him.

A shudder of bloodthirst reminded him that his continued survival would depend on more than just that. Maybe by tonight he would be healed enough to go out. He leaned back, struggling to find a comfortable position. He thought of his robot. Gone. He would regret losing her. She'd been fun. But Buffy was right. She hadn't been real. Eventually he would have tired of her, after a few weeks of really great sex. Ok, maybe months. He grinned at the memory then yelped as his skin split. His tongue stole out to lick the blood off. He thought of her in his arms and as he did, his eyes closed and he lost himself in a drowsy fantasy.

He jerked awake as his door opened again. He was surprised to see Buffy walk in carrying a large bag. "What?"

"You've lost blood. Too much," she said in a matter-of-fact tone as she dug into the bag and handed him a large container.

He could smell the blood through the plastic. His face changed against his will. She looked down at him. He expected to see disgust. 

Her expression was only neutral. "I've seen a bumpy forehead or two in my day, Spike. Drink it."

He tore the lid off and gulped down the liquid. It was warm. He looked up from his feeding, confused.

She seemed to read his mind. "I stopped at the quick mart. Sort of missed dinner myself. Grabbed something for me, and warmed a couple of these up while I was at it."

He was surprised at her thoughtfulness. "Thanks." He finished the blood.

"It wasn't a big deal," she shrugged it off as she handed him another container.

He drank it more slowly as he watched her walk to the fridge and put several more cartons inside. She also pulled out a box of wheatabix and held it up to him.

"You like these, right?"

He nodded, again mystified at her kindness.

She let it drop into the bag and set it by his chair. There were several boxes inside the sack. "I thought I remembered you and Giles arguing about them."

"That was nice of you."

"Yes," she said, "it was."

He searched her face. Was there something different there?

"What?" she glared at him.

"Nothing." He snuck a look at her again.

"Stop it. You're creeping me out."

"Sorry." He looked down.

"Ok. Well I'm leaving now."

"Ok."

She looked at him uncertainly again. "You're going to be all right?"

He faked some bravado for her, met her eyes, and said cockily. "Oh yeah. Be coming 'round pestering you in no time. You'll be wishing you'd staked me when you had the chance." Again he saw that look on her face.

"Ok. Great. Goodbye." She hurried to the door and escaped to the sunshine. 

He sipped the blood again and tried to decipher the emotion he had seen on her face. It wasn't loathing for once. Nor was it anything resembling affection. He didn't have a lot of recent experience with any other looks. He tried to picture when he had seen that look on her face, what she had been doing, who she had been with. Suddenly he got a picture of it, and another. He knew what the look meant. He sat stunned as he realized that Buffy had looked at him with...respect.

FIN


	11. Sanctuary (Season Six, "Bargaining" post-ep)

Sounds everywhere. Noises that, even muffled, made her jump. And people, seen through fuzzy eyes, all around her, trying to get to her. Xander. Willow. Anya and Tara. She remembered them even if their names didn't make it to her lips. 

They looked at her and it hurt. They talked and she wanted to scream. They wouldn't leave her alone. She could feel their eyes on her, even if they didn't touch her with their hands. 

She fled. But Dawn found her. Dawn saved her and she saved Dawn. But from what? She wanted to flee again. But it was too late. The others found them at the base of the crumpled tower. "Buffy," they shouted and ran toward her. Their feet stomped painfully on the concrete, filling her ears.

Inside, she pulled away. Wondered again, is this hell?

They joined Dawn, kneeling down, staring at her. Voices coming all at once.

"Buffy, you're back."

"Buffy, say something."

"Are you insane?"

"Can you hear us, Buffy?"

"Don't ever leave me."

She shuddered. This was hell.

She turned, tried to find a calm corner to hide in. Somewhere dark and quiet and free of hands and voices and eyes. 

There were no corners. 

She allowed them to pull her, bundle her along with them. They led her home, to her old bed, stood around her and smiled down. Large, open-mouthed smiles. So many teeth. Blinding her. She tried to close her eyes. Their smiles faded, but they didn't leave.

She wasn't tired. Wouldn't have slept if she had been. Knew instinctively that waking up would be terrifying. Dark and stuffy and all alone. Alive again and in a box. Her fingers suddenly ached as they relived clawing to freedom, bursting through the dirt finally and into the night air. 

She sat up so suddenly she scattered them as they stood above her. "No," she gasped. Her voice sounded like the grave. She looked at the others, knew from their faces that they didn't like what they saw. She felt guilty. Felt angry. Felt despair.

This was hell.

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Dawn's voice. Too loud. Too shrill. Please be normal, it said. Please be my sister again. 

"Leave me alone," she croaked. "Go away."

The faces were firm. Her friends didn't move. She felt panic set in as they tightened the circle around her. 

"No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Or tried to. Her voice barely filled the room.

"We better leave her alone for a while."

Yes. Willow. Good. Smart friend. Leave me alone, she thought desperately.

"Maybe I should stay," Dawn said. 

No!

"No." Willow again. Seeing the truth. Seeing the failure. 

This was hell. 

She wanted to be dead.

She could taste their disappointment as they backed out of the room, eyes not quite meeting hers. 

Freak. Monster. Buffy.

She sighed in relief. The panic withdrew. She slid down the bed, pushed herself out the window and onto the roof, breathing deeply of the burnt night. Better than inside, better than being buried. Fresh air, if slightly sulpheric. Hell was like that.

"Slayer." A soft voice. Gentle. 

She turned slowly. Waited for the touch, the shout. The seconds passed.

He didn't move. His eyes drank her in, but his hands stayed at his side. He was silent. Expecting nothing.

She remembered him. Felt emotions rage through her. 

Bad. He was bad. Like the bikers. Her hands formed fists. 

Good. Or at least not bad. She saw him falling from the tower she had walked up tonight, had run up before. He had been selfless. His life for Dawn. Or it would have been if he were mortal. Her hands relaxed.

"Not sure who you are?" His tone held no urgency, no pleading. No judgment. 

"Slayer."

"Yes. Slayer." He smiled. Showed no teeth. 

"Slayer." She repeated. "Buffy."

He slowly eased himself down next to her. "Yes. Buffy. Buffy the Slayer."

"Vampire slayer. You're a vampire." Her memories were jumbled. She saw him too many ways all at once, falling again from the tower, attacking her in the school, with Drusilla and Angel, fighting Adam's demons in the Initiative, standing in the sunlight taunting her. She remembered each thing, how it felt. The memories re-sorted themselves. She moaned.

"Hurts. I know." He handed her a cigarette. "This might help."

She shook her head, frowned. "This is hell."

He lit the cigarette for himself, nodded, laughing very softly. "Without a bleedin' doubt."

"Death is my gift." She blinked back sudden tears. "They took my gift away."

"Maybe you living is everybody else's gift?" he said softly.

"They want too much. I can't do it again." She closed her eyes as the memories assailed her. Joyce on the couch, eyes staring lifelessly. Angel as she thrust the sword through him. Kendra bleeding on the library floor. "Too much." She shivered.

He didn't say anything. Just took off his coat and wrapped it around her. 

"They want me just like I was." Her voice was getting stronger as she became more like the Buffy that wandered her memories. The sad one anyway. Not the light one, even though she remembered that girl, could see her laughing in the library, running a Scooby meeting in Giles' living room, trading quips with Faith. "They want it all to go back the way it was."

"Can't go back." He looked out at the fires in the distance; his eyes reflected their glow.

She felt the mantle of doom settle over her again. All the responsibility. Closed her eyes, resignation already filling her. "I'm the Slayer. I have to go back."

He turned to her. "Not right away, you don't. Take some time. Let them think you're coming around slow. I won't give you away." His smile was sad.

"How long can I pretend?"

He looked back at the fires. "As long as you need to. As long as you have to." 

She didn't answer and they sat in silence for a long time. Finally she stirred. "Sun's coming."

He nodded. 

She took off his coat. Handed it to him. "Thanks."

"Sleep now."

"I'll dream."

"Yeah. You will." He put his coat back on. "Don't let them push you, Buffy."

She crawled back into her room. Then she poked her head out. "You're the only one that doesn't seem happy to see me. Thank you."

He laughed, a small angry sound. "Bringing you back to hell? Not sure I'd wish that on my worst enemy, much less someone I care about."

She looked down. As he started to move off, she called out softly. "Come back tomorrow?"

He turned, smiled. "And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day...."

Her mouth lifted just slightly as she closed the window. Her bed beckoned. She lay down slowly, curling into a ball as she closed her eyes. Sleep was long in coming, but finally it carried her off. Her dreams were jumbled nightmares and snatches of memory. When she awoke a few hours later, her face was wet.

She heard the others stirring, considered joining them but then curled up tighter. She would take a little more time. Pretend just a bit longer. As long as she needed to. As long as she had to. As long as it took to get used to this.

And this was hell.

FIN


	12. Twisted (A "Smashed"/"Wrecked" post-ep, because I never bought the magic as addiction plot)

The house at 1630 Revello Drive was dark; the inhabitants had finally gone to bed. Or pretended to go to bed. Every so often, Buffy's silhouette fell across her bedroom window in a way that made Spike, standing under his normal tree, want to go to her.

"She seems nervous. And what did she hang in her windows?" Tara muttered from the shadows across the street. 

Spike heard her and scanned the darkness till he found her hiding place. He circled around and came up behind her. "Garlic." His voice made her jump.

"Garlic?" 

"S'what I said, isn't it."

"But garlic keeps vampires away." She looked at him in surprise. "Oh."

"Yeah. Bloody, sodding oh."

"So when Buffy didn't come home the other night...?"

He didn't answer.

"Are you being a gentleman?"

He laughed and it was a bitter sound. "If I were, you'd be the only one to believe it, duck."

"You and Buffy. That actually explains a lot." She glanced at him and seemed to see his anger. "You can't say. Or won't say. Did you promise her you wouldn't say?" She held a hand up to stop his irritated reply. "Never mind. Stupid question." 

He shifted to get a better view of the house. "So, you come here often?"

"No. Well, maybe a few nights since I left them. You know, to check up on things."

He stared up at the windows. The slayer was pacing again. He saw her reach up to check the garlic.

Tara was watching him. "You're in love with her." 

"No flies on you."  
"Does she know that?"

"Yeah." He pulled out a cigarette. "Doesn't seem to care much, though."

"Can I have one?"

"One of these?" He held out the pack, surprised when she reached for a cigarette. "Knock yourself out. Didn't know you smoked."

"Only when I'm really nervous."

"And you're really nervous now?"

She leaned in for a light, took a deep drag, and coughed quietly. "I am."

"Then how come you're not stuttering?"

She smiled. "I stutter when the people I'm around make me nervous."

"I don't make you nervous?"

"Guess not." She pointed to the house with the cigarette. "That situation makes me nervous. Everything's wrong."

"You're telling me."

"I wish I could get Dawn out of there."

Anger filled him again. "Your girl almost killed her tonight."

Tara turned to him in dismay.

"She's messed up with Rack. You know him?"

Tara nodded. "I've heard of him. In the worst way. Willow went to _him_?"

"And took Dawn with her."

"Oh God."

"Crashed a car beatin' it from some nasty that Red conjured up. Damn thing wanted Dawn. Buffy barely kept it away. If your girl hadn't snapped to and made it disappear..." He stomped out his cigarette with rather more force than was necessary. 

"I didn't know."

"Damn magic. Trouble that's what it is. Just trouble."

"It's not the magic," Tara whispered.

"Then what the hell is it?"

"It's something else, Spike. I use magic. Giles did, too. We're not like Willow."

"Well that former rat is, according to Buffy. Into the magic like a junkie in Needle Park is into her heroin."

"But it's not the magic." Tara frowned. "Magic isn't bad. Not when you use it right. But Willow isn't using it right anymore. Last year she crossed a line. Fighting for Dawn, for me. Fighting Glory. Willow crossed a really dangerous line. And she's pretty much been crossing it ever since."

"Like when she brought Buffy back."

Tara looked down.

"I read up on the ritual of Osiris, love. You know what she had to do, don't you?"

"I know now. I didn't then."

He felt his temper boiling—what in sodding hell was wrong with everyone? "Why didn't you? Why didn't any of you stop to ask yourself what you were doing? And if you had any right to interfere in that?"

"We were caught up in the possibility. We thought we were helping Buffy."

"Well you weren't. Should have left her where she was."

Tara frowned. "You don't like having her back?"

He pulled his coat more tightly around him. "In a way, I do. I mean, I love her. I hated that she died. That I couldn't save her." He looked up at the sky and didn't say anything for a moment. "But she's not right. She didn't come back right."

"What do you mean?" 

He realized what he'd said and shook his head. "I mean she's having a hard time of it, is all. And your girl and her magic aren't making it better."

"Spike, it really isn't the magic. It's something else. Something inside Willow. And inside Amy. Making them want something more than just the magic. Maybe power, maybe something else. I don't understand it."

"Yeah, well join the club." He lit another cigarette, then offered her one.

"No, I'm good." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what to do. I can feel that Willow's hurting. But I don't know what to do."

"Get her to stop using the magic."

"That may be impossible. For me and for Giles, magic is just a tool. It's something we use to help us. For Willow it's become her identity. She's not happy if she's not proving she's the big, powerful witch. This has to do with a lot more than misusing magic. It has to do with how she feels about herself and how the magic lets her make others afraid so that she doesn't have to be."

"What's she afraid of?"

"Being alone. Being rejected."

"Oh, great. So you go and leave her and just rub that in? Bloody brilliant."

She looked away for a moment. "I had to, Spike. She wasn't good for me. I wasn't good for her. And...I couldn't trust her anymore."

He looked up at Buffy's window. "Looks like you're not the only one that can't trust."

"It's not you she doesn't trust. It's herself."

"She hung garlic in the windows."

"But what did she do to the front door?" Tara smiled when he realized what she was saying. "Why don't you go see?"

"Yeah. I guess I could." He put out the cigarette. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, "I just want you to know that you're all right, Tara. I mean, in case she stakes me for this."

"Thanks. And I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again." 

He grinned. "Hope so." 

He heard her whispered, "Me, too," as he walked across the street and up the front steps. He reached for the door. It wasn't even locked. Damn, women, what the hell is wrong with the lot of you? He opened the door quietly and stepped inside. 

Instantly, Buffy was at the top of the stairs. For a moment, he thought he saw a welcome in her eyes, then all emotion died. "Oh. It's you."

"Yeah. Thought about coming through the window but decided on the more traditional approach."

She walked down the stairs. "Give me one good reason not to kill your right here in the living room."

"You hate to dust?" He sat down on the couch and tried not to look too satisfied at the way she almost smiled at his joke.

"Give me another."

"Fresh out. Think of one yourself." He leaned back. 

"If you think something's going to happen here..."

"I don't." He kept his voice even. No teasing, no joking, no taunting. Just talking.

"Then why are you here?"

"Garlic, Buffy? Bit melodramatic, isn't it?" 

"I don't think so."

He smiled at the embarrassed look on her face. "Sure you don't."

"Spike, you're bad for me. I can't keep doing this. Someone is going to get hurt."

"You're not Willow. And I'm not magic."

"No. But it's the same thing."

He shook his head. "No. It's really not. Because according to an expert I know, magic is neutral, and Willow made it bad. I, on the other hand, am bad." He smiled up at her. "Incorrigible, even. And you make me good."

She didn't move and it looked like she was buying it for a minute, but then she shook it off. "You're not just bad, Spike. You're evil."

"Well, sure I am. I've never claimed to be anything but evil. So?"

"So?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You're a mass murderer."

"So are you. Guess it depends on who you ask, eh?"

"You think because you love me that makes it all okay?"

"I think because I love you that it makes it all horrible. I wish I didn't love you but I do. And because I love you, I find this annoying need to be good. And tell me, Buffy, if an evil creature does good, should he get any points for that?"

"You're only good for me. You're not good because you want to be. Or because you feel bad and want to atone. You're not even sorry for what you've done in your unlife, are you?"

"Not really. No."

"God, Spike."

He shrugged. "I may be evil, but I'm the one that you've turned to ever since you came back from wherever you were. And I'm the one that's been there for you, even when you weren't ready to turn to anyone. I'm the one you can count on here—and I'm evil. That's a turn of events nobody would ever have predicted. But that's the way things are."

"You forgot to mention that I'm not right."

"Didn't forget. Chose not to."

"Why?"

"Don't really feel like hurting you."

"Well, that's a first."

"No, it's not. And the day you realize that will be a red letter day on my crypt calendar."

"Whatever. Well, let's get it out there. You think I came back wrong. Maybe a demon, huh? That'd be swell, wouldn't it, Spike? You're very own Buffy demon."

"I never said you were a demon. Just said you came back wrong."

"Well what's more wrong than a demon on earth?"

"Maybe something good. Something meant to be where you were. Wrong doesn't have to mean evil." 

She just stared at him.

"Last night, while you were sleeping...I wasn't. I was watching you sleep. And you did sleep, Buffy. All through the night. Have you done that since you've been back?" He waited for her to answer, finally continued when it was clear she wasn't going to. "I watched you and I thought about things. Well, and I did a lot of reliving." He gave her an evil smirk, then turned it down to something more gentle. "I thought about how you came back, and where you might have been, and what you really are. The chip doesn't lie about you not being human. But I know evil when I see it. And you're not it."

Her voice was so soft he barely heard her when she said, "If I'm not evil, why are you the only one I want to be with? Why am I so drawn to you?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Why am I so drawn to you when you're everything I should hate? It's not just the slayer thing for me. And for you, it's not just that vampires get you hot."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said. And now I'm saying something different. I don't know what you are. And I don't know why I should want to be with you. To help you. To protect you. I'm evil. I've never been anything but evil for over a hundred years. I can't explain why I'd give my life to keep you safe. Or Dawn. But I would. It's a big joke on us, Buffy. Only we can't see who's doing the laughing."

"Do you believe in the devil?"

"No. People got enough evil in them without adding a big, bad devil to the mix." He got up slowly. "Do you believe in God?"

She looked at him in surprise.

"If there is a god, Buffy. He...or she let you be yanked out of heaven. Not very fair, is it?"

She looked stricken. 

"Don't look so glum. I'm sure we'll understand this eventually. Higher purpose and everything. In the meantime, I'll be off to my crypt and you can go back to your garlic-infested room and try to get some sleep."

"I may sleep down here. The smell's kind of strong."

"You know it doesn't work, right?"

"It doesn't?"

He shook his head. 

"Then why didn't you crawl through the window?"

"Why didn't you hang any on the front door?"

She glared at him. He glared back, then headed for the door. 

As he opened it, he turned back to Buffy and said in the most serious voice he could muster, "You'd better watch Willow. This isn't just about magic. It's about fear. She could be a real danger to herself and to Dawn."

She nodded. "I'm going to call Giles in the morning. See if he has any ideas."

"Sort of a magical detox?"

"Something like that." She looked down. "Maybe he'll have one for me, too."

He laughed. "This addiction is a bit different. You'll be back. It's attraction, Buffy. Yeah, it may seem wrong. Hell, it may even be wrong. But if it's really wrong, why does it feel right?"

She didn't have an answer for him

"Take care of Dawn."

She nodded. "Thank you. For helping with her."

"You know I'd do anything for her. Or for you."

"Anything except leave me alone."

"Anything but that." Their eyes met and held for a long moment. Then he smiled and turned to go. "Dream of me."

"Nightmares are more like it."

"You wish," he chortled as he closed the door behind him. He gave Tara a jaunty wave as he walked down the stairs and headed down the street to his crypt. His thoughts were chaotic but happy. He and Buffy were total opposites. They made no sense. Yet he loved her. She thought she despised him, but he knew something had happened when they'd been together. Something momentous. Something real. It was just going to take her a bit longer to catch up. Okay, probably a lot longer knowing how stubborn she was. But it would just make the victory sweeter. 

He started to whistle an old tune he'd always used after a particularly good night of hunting. The irony was not lost on him. Nor, he suspected, would it be lost on her. Total opposites and two of a kind—in a twisted, Sunnydale kind of way. He found he was perfectly comfortable with that.

FIN


	13. One Fun Little Hobby ("Gone" post-ep)

Willow trembled as another cramp took her. She stopped for a moment and bent over, panting deliberately until the pain receded a bit. She looked up in time to see Tara disappear around a corner. Afraid she would lose her if she gave in to the pain, Willow straightened with a small groan and started walking again.

She wasn't exactly sure why she was following Tara. She hadn't planned to. She was supposed to be in class, but hadn't been able to concentrate. The withdrawal pains were holding on with a vengeance. Magic had been a lot easier to learn than it was to give up. She had thought she was making progress when she was investigating Buffy's sudden invisibility. But now it looked like that had only distracted her. Her need to do magic was practically screaming inside her. She'd left class, hoping that the walk and fresh air would do her good. It hadn't. She'd finally decided to tough it out at home when she saw Tara out walking. And without even an idea why, she had set off after her ex-girlfriend. 

And the other woman was leading her a merry chase. Willow couldn't remember Tara ever walking this fast or this far. Fortunately she was also making a lot of stops, giving Willow time to catch her breath and fight the pain. She rounded the corner and saw Tara head into a bakery. Willow touched her stomach, pushing in and trying to will the pain away. She felt the magic respond and pulled her hand away quickly. It would be so easy to stop this, just one little spell. 

Tara came out of the store holding a piece of paper. She sat down on a bench and began to write. Willow realized that her ex was looking for a job. She'd never really thought about how Tara would live now that she had moved out. She remembered Tara saying her scholarship had paid for tuition and books. And the dorm room had been covered too. But the dorms were full now and she'd have to pay the rent for an apartment herself. And for that she needed money. "Oh, Tara," Willow whispered. "Come back."

"Yeah and this pathetic stalking routine is sure to entice her."

Willow turned quickly and felt the cramps overwhelm her. She could just make out a person through the pain. "Go away, Anya."

"Scarier people than you have said that to me." Anya frowned at her. "Cramps?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

The ex-demon shook her head. "When is it going to sink in with you people that I've seen a lot in my time?" 

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything. I was taking the deposit to the bank and saw you here. And saw Tara, too. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on."

"Because if it did you'd never get it." Willow whispered the insult; she was in too much pain to talk louder. 

"I heard that." Anya reached over and pulled her up. "Come on. I'll make you some tea. It'll help."

"But Tara will see me."

"Doubt it. She's halfway down the block now."

Willow struggled. "I have to follow her."

Anya's grip was like steel. "I really don't think you do." She pulled her down the street. "Come on. You'll feel much better if you just let me help."

"Why are you being so nice?"

"I'm not. I just thought if you felt better, you might stop being such a whiner. Between your little problem and Buffy's attitude, nobody is focusing on the important issues, like me and my wedding."

"I should have known you wouldn't be doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Anya didn't answer as she unlocked the door to the Magic Box, removed the small note that said "Back in ten minutes," and guided Willow to the table. "Sit. Don't move. And don't talk."

"Yes, ma'am." Willow clenched her teeth as another wave of pain rolled over her, then said, "And I was doing fine, you know. Tara wouldn't have gotten so far ahead if you hadn't distracted me."

"Oh right. Like you would have been able to keep up with her much longer anyway." Anya plugged the electric teakettle in and measured out some herbs. 

"Hellebore? You're using hellebore? And that better not be rue!"

Anya didn't turn around as she replied. "Look, if you think you can make a better infusion, you're welcome to try. Oh wait, you gave this up, didn't you?"

Willow didn't answer. When Anya brought her the cup she drank down the nasty concoction without a word.

"That's better," Anya said with satisfaction as she stuck a little bag of the herbs into Willow's book bag. "In about ten minutes you'll start feeling better. This is for later. Use a scoop per cup, every four hours."

"Thanks," Willow muttered.

"Yeah, you're welcome." Anya said as she walked back to the counter and began to check the herbs, making notes for restocking. 

Willow watched her for a while, then began to notice that the cramps were lessening. "Hey, it's working."

"Well of course it's working. Just because I'm not a demon anymore doesn't mean I've forgotten everything I learned." She opened a jar of damiana and gave it a suspicious sniff. "This smells off to me." She walked over and held it under Willow's nose. "What do you think?"

Willow took a deep whiff. The scent filled her nose. And Anya was right. Something was off. "I think it's old." Then she realized what she had done and began to panic.

Anya dumped the herb out. "I'll have to check the other jar downstairs. Make sure it hasn't turned too." She turned to Willow. "You don't have to freak out. That wasn't magic you just did."

"It wasn't?" 

"It was knowledge. You knew what it should smell like and it didn't so you knew it was off. Like chemistry."

"You did that on purpose. Made me smell it."

"Uh huh." Anya walked over to the case that held the more valuable items. She picked up a ceremonial dagger, admired the scrollwork. Then, she turned to Willow and threw the knife at her.

Willow didn't think. She only reacted. Her magic deflected the weapon before she had time to blink. 

The dagger clattered to the floor and both women stared at it for a moment, then Anya walked over and picked it up. "Nice reflexes." She inspected it for damage, then satisfied carried it to the case and went back to her inventory.

Willow could feel her heart beating rapidly; she gulped in several large breaths of air. "You stupid bitch. Why the hell did you do that?"

"To show you something."

"What? That you're a complete psycho?" She grabbed her bookbag.

Anya took another jar down. "I just think you're missing the whole point."

"Which is what?"

"That there is a difference between using magic and abusing it. Who told you that you had to give it up?"

Willow looked at her in confusion. "Well Tara said..."

Anya shook her head. "Tara said you were using too much magic. Not that you shouldn't be using it at all."

Willow put her bag down. "But what I did with Amy, and Rack..."

Anya rolled her eyes. "For such a smart person, you really are dense, you know that?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? Magic is a tool, Willow. But it's a powerful one. Either you control it, or it controls you. And it's not like you aren't a person who is driven to excess."

"Meaning what?"

"Hello, remember that vampire self you had to go and conjure and wreck my spell. Even undead you're an overachiever. You couldn't just be a bloodsucker, you had to be the most monstrous vampire out there."

"That's hardly the same thing. It wasn't even me."

Anya raised her eyebrows. "And it's not like you turned out anything like her?"

Willow frowned. "Well I don't drink blood."

"Whatever. I'm just saying that maybe you should rethink this whole, 'I suck and I can't ever use magic again' routine. What happens if we need you to use it?"

"Well, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't control it."

Anya laughed. "You mean you aren't sure it won't control you again."

"Look everyone else agrees that me using magic is a bad. Where do you get off telling me to keep on it?"

"It's not a drug, Willow. It may be convenient to think of it that way, but it's not very accurate."

"Oh, like you know."

"I do." 

The phone rang and Anya answered it leaving Willow momentarily alone with her thoughts. Could Anya be right? Maybe she didn't have to give magic up? Then Willow remembered Rack and how he made her feel. How good it felt to give up to the power like that. 

Anya hung up the phone. "That was Cordelia."

Willow couldn't keep the dislike out of her voice. "What did she want?"

"Some advice. On demons." Anya's smile was strangely smug. Then she turned serious again. "You think you can't handle magic, that you'll become evil or something. Well that's just lazy, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you."

"I don't care. I have a stake in this."

"Now I'm supposed to believe you care about me?"

Anya stepped closer. "I know you don't like me. And you know I don't like you. But what I do like is living. And loving Xander. And last year, you and your magic were instrumental in making sure I got to keep on doing both."

"I don't need magic to help."

Anya sighed. "Sure you solved this latest crisis with your brain. But you were taken prisoner, Willow, by a bunch of geeks. You. Witch girl. Prisoner. You could have taken them out. Why didn't you?"

Willow looked down.

"Why didn't you? They could have killed you. Or any of us."

"You said it yourself, they're geeks. They aren't going to kill anyone."

"They almost killed Buffy. If you hadn't noticed the setting was wrong..."

"But I did. The Willow who doesn't use magic and is in major pain did notice that. I don't need the magic." She winced as a cramp hit.

"Ok. But maybe the magic needs you." Anya walked back to her inventory.

"Aren't you afraid of what I'll become if I go back to it?" Willow's voice was very small.

"Yeah. If you go back to it right this minute." Anya turned. "Who trained you?"

Willow frowned.

"Who taught you to use it? Who told you how to be safe with it?"

"Nobody did. Well I mean, except Tara."

"And Tara knew barely more than you do now. You need a teacher."

Willow made an impatient sound.

Anya continued, "You think you know so much, but you don't. You don't know half of the things you should. You don't understand the laws or any of the things that really matter."

"Maybe I should have stayed with the Wicca group, huh? I bet I could be planning a bake sale by now."

"You can be as sarcastic as you want. It doesn't change the fact that you've been lucky so far, Willow. You found the right books and you didn't really hurt yourself or any of us too badly the times you screwed up. I'd almost be inclined to say the powers that be wanted you to succeed, to help save the day. But now the crisis is over and it's time to learn things the right way." Anya stretched for one of the jars on the top shelf. "Do you think I started granting wishes and carrying out vengeance the minute I became a demon? I had to study for a long time with D'Hoffryn before I was ready."

"Are you saying I need to study with him?" Willow thought of his talisman, which was hidden away well enough to have survived Buffy and Dawn's purge of all things magic.

"No, not him. He's basically in the business of vengeance. I mean someone who understands witchcraft. Someone way stronger and a whole lot wiser than you. Someone that knows the right way to do things."

"I don't know anyone like that."

Anya turned. "Well I do. Do you want me to get in touch with it?"

"It?" Willow gulped.

"Not everyone that matters is human, you know."

Before Willow could respond the front bell rang. Tara pushed the door open. She didn't notice Willow at first, just smiled at Anya and said, "You were right. Mr. Delpaccio is hiring. I don't know how to thank you, Anya."

Willow coughed.

Tara looked startled. "Willow."

"Hi." Willow smiled at the other witch. A gentle smile, not the forced one that she'd been wearing lately.

Tara seemed to relax a bit, although her expression was still wary. "Are you getting supplies?"

Willow shook her head. "I gave it up."

"Magic? You gave magic up?"

Anya laughed cynically. "I tried to tell her that wasn't what you meant."

Willow looked at her thoughtfully. "Was it, Tara?"

Tara looked from the demon to her ex-lover. She seemed torn. "You were using it too much, Willow. For things that you didn't need to, things you could have done for yourself. And you were using it to hurt people. You know you were."

"Yeah, ok. I screwed up. Did you want me to give it up altogether?"

Tara swallowed. "I just wanted you to be more careful."

Willow's frustration became intolerable. "Did you want me to give it up forever?" she yelled.

Tara shook her head, "No."

"But you said to go a week without it."

"Just a week, Willow. To see if you could."

"Where's the line, Tara? When is it ok to use it and when isn't it? That's what I don't understand. That's what I don't see." She grabbed her bookbag and headed for the door. "You're never happy, are you? I gave it up. I'm trying to do the right thing. I'm in pain, and I'm afraid, and I'm left with nothing, but that's just not enough for you. It's never enough for you."

"Willow," Tara reached for her, but Willow shrugged her hand off.

"Let her go," Anya's voice was surprisingly firm. "She doesn't want your help, or mine."

Willow opened the door.

"If you change your mind, I can contact that teacher for you. Think about it, Willow." Anya's voice was reasonable and tempting.

Willow turned. "I can see why you were such a good demon."

Tara said softly, "Baby, please don't leave like this."

Willow felt the magic growling inside her. The pain was coming back. She saw the little bag of herbs in her bag; touched it but felt no relief for the anger that filled her. She looked at the two women in the store, realized how easy it would be to destroy them. To bring the roof down on them and leave them lying in a pile of rubble. Or to cause the small candle that was burning to flare up and burn them alive. She had the power. She would always have the power. That hadn't changed. Her anger receded. She would always have the power. She looked at Anya. "It's never going to go away, is it?"

Anya shook her head. "It's not like being a demon. This is yours. Whether you let it control you, or try to ignore it, or even maybe seek to master it, it's yours forever."

"That's just great." Willow spun on her heel and walked through the door, closing it loudly behind her. So the magic was hers forever. Forever was a very long time. The cramps hit again. A very, very long time.

FIN


	14. Just the Same ("Gone" post-ep that is totally AU by now, even if "Potential" teased us with it--and mostly just dialogue)

"I didn't mean to do it."

"Sure you did."

"I didn't. I just lost control."

"And as I remember that excuse never flew for me."

"You're different."

"Different? How?"

"You just are."

"Well it's nice to see you're embracing the zen and all, but I'm not seeing the difference."

"We're different. End of story."

"Hey, don't run away. It was just getting good."

"I don't think so."

"Well, I do. Hold up a minute."

"No!"

"Yeah you say no, but your legs say yes. Or you wouldn't have slowed down."

"Shut up."

"Oh, now there's a good comeback. That was big back in what? Fifth grade?"

"I said shut up."

"Whoa. Almost got me there. Good thing for those reflexes. Almost as good as yours, I bet."

"We're not the same."

"Oh yeah. We're different alright. Notice who takes a swing and who holds back."

"You don't count."

"I've always had that feeling from you. But why exactly is that?"

"You're evil."

"Oh."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just oh."

"You don't think you're evil?"

"Well, no. Not anymore."

"You'll always be evil."

"Not big on the forgiving, are you?"

"I can never forgive you."

"Ok, sure. Whatever. But can you forgive yourself?"

"For what?"

"For being like me."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Right. I forgot. Because it's not like you like the sex rough? Awfully quiet suddenly. And it's not like you get off on the power, is it?"

"I don't."

"Sure. Or wait, it's not like you beat the crap out of someone who was only trying to help."

"Spike isn't Xander."

"Fortunately for him or he'd be dead."

"Or Wesley. Or even me if your plan had worked."

"Yeah, we've covered this ground."

"You're evil."

"I was. You won't hear me denying it."

"I'm not like you."

"You're exactly like me."

"Get away from me."

"There you go running away again. Good thing I can keep up."

"Go away."

"I can keep up because I'm like you. I understand you."

"You don't know what it's been like. They all want me to help them. I can barely help myself."

"What part of that do you think I don't get?"

"The all of it part. You didn't help anyone."

"Bull. I helped plenty. It's what we do, in our blood."

"Till you went evil."

"And God, what a relief. Tell me it wasn't a relief to do exactly what you wanted to do for once?"

"It wasn't."

"Liar."

"I'm not."

"You are. Tell the truth."

"Well...maybe a little."

"Yeah. More than a little."

"Maybe."

"He's part of that."

"Yeah but he's evil."

"He made you feel good, didn't he?"

"He did. But he's still evil."

"And he loves you."

"That doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because he's evil."

"Broken record much?"

"You think it's nothing? You think it doesn't matter that he's evil?"

"You're just afraid that you're like him."

"No."

"And like me."

"No."

"Well, you know what? You're not like me. Not yet."

"Good."

"Don't you want to know why?"

"No."

"I'll tell you anyway."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"Fine. Then tell me."

"You're not like me because you're not sorry."

"Sorry?" You think I'm not sorry for the things I let him do to me?"

"That's guilt. That's stupid. You were just letting off steam. Nobody got hurt. Not really."

"Then what am I supposed to be sorry for."

"For hurting him. Deliberately."

"Oh."

"You did hurt him."

"He probably liked it."

"That's what I used to say about Xander and Wesley."

"They didn't."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Well, he didn't either. I just know."

"Leave me alone."

"Not gonna happen. You have to go to him. You have to say you're sorry."

"Fine. I'll say it."

"You have to mean it."

"I won't."

"Try."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want you to turn out like me. Especially not now. Because of her."

"Who?"

She's going to need you."

"Who?"

"My replacement."

"Huh?"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

"Because you're a pain in the ass."

"Try again."

"You were bored in prison and learned astral projection instead of a useful skill?"

"No. And it's not projection. I'm here."

"I'm dreaming."

"Yes, you are. But I'm still here."

"Lucky me."

"Hear that?"

"It's the phone."

"It's news."

"The machine will get it."

"You need to take it."

"Fine." Buffy forced herself fully awake, reached for the phone. "Hello?"

"Buffy Summers?" A British voice.

"Yeah."

"We regret to inform that you Miss Lehane was killed in prison."

"Who?"

"Faith Lehane."

"She had a last name." Buffy looked around the room. It was empty.

"Her death will activate the next slayer. We're trying to identify her now."

"Identify?"

"These are confusing times. Two slayers at once. One that keeps insisting on coming back to life. It's all most unprecedented. In the muddle, we've just slightly lost track of the new one."

"Slightly?"

"If she finds her way to you, please call us."

"Call you? So you can ruin her life the way you did mine? The way you did Faith's?"

"She is a slayer, we are watchers. It's the way this has been done since the beginning. You will call us." It wasn't a question. The phone went dead.

Buffy swung her legs out of bed. "Faith?"

Nothing.

He stood up. "Faith, please? I want to talk."

Still nothing.

Buffy heard a noise down the hall. She listened for a minute, heard it again, coming from Dawn's room. She opened her sister's door quietly. The girl was dreaming, covers twisting around her.

"No! You're never here!" Dawn cried out as her hand reached, punched out. Hit the leg of the nightstand hard. Broke it. Her hand wasn't injured from the blow. She didn't wake as the table collapsed, as her things fell to the floor.

"No," Buffy moaned, this time in unison with her sister.

Faith's voice was a ghostly one, "My replacement. She's going to need you."


	15. Fate (post "Grave"

"We've saved the world...again. Now go to sleep," Buffy ordered as she closed the door to Dawn's room. She let her shoulders sag and turned to her own room, trying to not see the door to her mother's room—to Willow and Tara's room. Her mother. Tara. 

God, what had happened? "Willow," she whispered. Her friend couldn't hear her. Was out of range, somewhere safe with Giles where she could heal—atone. But could she atone? Really?

Buffy tried not to think of a forest, of ruined meat hanging skinless from a crosstie. Of Warren. That bastard. Had he deserved it? She didn't doubt he was twisted. He had just grown darker and darker, preying on the women who loved him, who didn't love him, then who barely knew him. Willow was his last victim. 

His victim. She couldn't be his torturer...his killer.

But she was. Buffy closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. Willow was a killer.

Willow was Willow. Sweet, innocent. Always cheerful. The dependable one. Willow.

"Stupid, mousy Willow." Buffy tried not to hear the taunting voice that Willow had used on her. Over and over. It had hurt. Really hurt. Willow's voice. It had reminded her of something.

Buffy sat heavily on her bed, contemplated taking her clothes off then decided she was too tired. The dirt would wash off her clothes. And the sheets. It wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up in grave dirt.

Willow had seen to that.

No, she was just trying to help. She always wanted to help.

What had Willow's voice reminded her of? Buffy thought about that as she relaxed her head, let it sink into her pillow. So soft. So clean. 

Never be clean again, Willow had muttered, as Giles had gently led her away. Dirty hands and Buffy knew it was all her fault ultimately. If she'd left Willow out of it, out of the slaying and the nightmares, then her friend wouldn't have turned to magic, wouldn't have turned evil. Willow would have stayed innocent. Buffy knew there was something wrong with her logic but ran out of energy before she could figure it out. She let go of the thought as sleep took her away.

She was in a warm and familiar place. Safe and light and free from the pain she had carried since she'd been ripped away. But what was she doing here? 

"I needed to talk to you."

Buffy turned. "Tara!" She ran to her, embraced her. "You're okay."

Tara smiled gently. "I'm dead, Buffy."

Buffy frowned. "But you're here, and I'm here, and if you're dead, then I'm..."

Tara shook her head. "You're dreaming. That's all. I'm at home in your dreams."

Buffy turned away without answering. She couldn't let Tara know what Willow had done. She had to hide that from her. 

"I already know." Tara touched Buffy's shoulder. "I know everything."

"It's my fault."

"How is it your fault?"

"I came to Sunnydale. I involved her."

"You had to go to Sunnydale."

"But I didn't have to involve her. I could have left her alone. She'd have been hurt but it would've been okay in the long run. Better."

"You would have died without her."

"But look at what I made her! Tara, she killed Warren."

"I know." Tara's smile was full of sympathy.

"She tortured him, Tara. She pulled his skin off and left him hanging alive just long enough for us all to see. She wanted us to see."

"Yes, she did. Bored now," Tara whispered.

"What?" Buffy realized she'd heard that before. Where?

"It was her destiny," Tara offered helpfully. "You can't change what's meant to be."

"You think it was her destiny to kill Warren."

Tara shook her head. "Without you it was her destiny to be evil."

"Willow didn't have to be evil. That's ridiculous."

"Think about it, Buffy. She would have been at the Bronze, with Jesse and Xander, that night when you first ran into Luke and Darla. If you'd walked away from her to keep her out of harm's way then you wouldn't have noticed that she'd left with that vampire. She'd have been turned that night. The vampire you met when Anya's spell backfired, that thing was Willow's destiny."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true. But because of you, she's less evil than she would have been."

"Because of me and my choice to involve her so I wasn't alone? She's slightly less evil because I made a selfish choice?"

A new voice sounded. "No. Because I made a wish."

Buffy didn't want to turn around. The last time she'd heard the voice had been in the asylum. It wasn't real then. Could it be real now? "Mom?"

She felt warm hands on her shoulder, turning her gently. "Buffy."

"Mom!" There was only this moment, with a warm hug and a feeling of safety and love that had been missing ever since she'd walked through her front door and found her mother dead. "Mommy," she said as she buried her face in Joyce's neck. 

Finally, she pulled away. "I've been so lonely. I've tried and I've tried but I haven't done a very good job. Dawn—"

"Shh, Buffy. I know. I've seen it all. And I'm sorry. I didn't know it would end up like this."

Buffy frowned. "You said a wish? You made a wish? Please tell me it was on a star, or you threw a coin into a fountain." 

Her mother shook her head sadly.

"Not Anya..."

Tara laughed. "She's not the only vengeance demon, Buffy."

"Then which one?"

Joyce shrugged. "I never knew, never even saw her."

"There are always some around here," Tara said helpfully. "They like the Hellmouth." 

"Figures." Buffy turned to her mom. "But what wish?"

"It all happened so fast. I just was so angry. I wanted vengeance. " Joyce reached out to stroke Buffy's face. "I just wanted my little girl back. I had lost her such a long time ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"Buffy, you weren't supposed to be in Sunnydale. " Tara waved her hand and suddenly an image appeared. "This is how it was."

Buffy stared at the people that appeared in front of her. Familiar scenes played across it, focusing on her friends. Xander and Willow at school the day she first met them. Cordelia insulting Willow's outfit just the way Buffy remembered it happening. She had stood and watched. But there was no Buffy standing with Cordelia in these pictures. 

"I don't understand. I was there."

"You weren't there," Joyce said. "We moved to Cleveland. I wanted to get as far from LA as possible, and I had a college friend there that could rent me the space for the gallery."

Buffy watched as Willow sat in the bronze, trying to look nonchalant as she waited at the bar for someone to notice her. Someone...something did. Willow left with the first young man that had ever shown her that kind of interest. Only he wasn't that young. And she never came back. 

Well, eventually she came back. But not the same. She was a new, evil Willow—the vampire Buffy had met. "Oh, God," she whispered. 

"You saw what she was like," Tara said quietly. 

"The Master turned her?"

Tara nodded. "He liked her hair. Turned her and let Darla train her. They were...close. Then Angel came to town. He wanted to meet up with you, Buffy. Thought you'd show up when you heard about the Master getting free of the Hellmouth. But you didn't show. Angel killed Darla. And Willow made him pay. Over and over."

Buffy turned to her mother. "You said you lost me?"

Joyce gave her a look so full of love Buffy nearly sobbed. "You didn't like Cleveland. You didn't fit in. I was preoccupied. I saw what was happening, but I was so immersed in my own pain I didn't try to stop it. The watchers found you again, only I didn't know it then. I thought you'd fallen in with a bad crowd. What did I know? In any life I wasn't much of a mother."

"You were the best mother," Buffy said fixing her with a fierce look.

"The best mother wouldn't have told you not to come home. Wouldn't have sat all that summer you ran away wondering if you were safe or even alive. I had a lot to learn, still do." Joyce pointed to the images. A fiercer, Buffy—scarred and tough—appeared. "You eventually dropped out of school. Disappeared for days at a time. I'd find receipts from strange places in your pockets, when I could actually get to your clothes. Then one day you came home with a cut that looked like someone had tried to slice your face in half. I got scared. I paid a detective to follow you."

Buffy saw the other version of herself talking to a tough-looking older man. "Your watcher," Tara explained. 

"But Giles," Buffy whispered. 

"In Sunnydale," Tara answered. "You didn't know him, he wasn't your watcher. But he asked you to come. There was word that the Master was starting work on a factory. You planned to go in a few weeks but then your watcher decided to send you to LA earlier to stop another problem. He decided you could hit Sunnydale on your way back. A quick stop to clean up what had undoubtedly been exaggerated by an inexperienced watcher."

"And where you went, I was going," Joyce continued. "The detective knew something was up, told me so I went through your things. It took a while but I found your ticket. And a lot of other things I didn't understand. Your weapons...they scared me. I bought a ticket on an earlier flight and waited for you at LAX." Joyce looked down. "I was convinced you were involved in drugs. I was so angry at you."

"You didn't know," Buffy offered.

"You said it yourself. How could I not know?"

Buffy looked down. "You didn't want to know. It was safer."

"Not for you."

"Shhh." Tara touched Buffy's hand. "Watch."

Buffy stared hard at the image, found herself being drawn into the action. She was at the Bronze, Buffy realized, then slowly the sense of recognition faded as she began to integrate with her alter ego. The place was full of vampires, but they hadn't scented her yet. She'd never seen so many in one place. Her watcher hadn't told her about this. That Giles guy had tried but she hadn't believed him, had brushed off his offer of help. She was the slayer. She fought alone. She slipped into the basement. There was a cage, and a man was chained. She nearly freed him, fell for the trap, but realized in time he was a vampire. 

But he knew her name. His voice was soft, and his eyes were gentle as he told her his name was Angel. He said he had a soul. 

"I don't believe you," she said. Her stake drove the point home.

"You killed Puppy," a low voice drawled. Buffy turned. A redhead stood on the stairs blocking her exit. "Now what am I gonna do for fun?"

"Not really my problem." Buffy pulled out another stake and advanced.

"Oh, you're feisty. I like that." The vampire let her face morph into the demon. Her eyes glowed a strange green. She slowly backed up the stairs.

Buffy followed her. The music in the club went dead as the other vampires turned to watch. A very old one rose from a throne like chair and said, "What have you found, Willow?"

"Not sure, Master." The redhead answered. "But I'd like to find out."

"It's a slow night. Nothing to do but wait for the factory to be done." The old one smiled magnanimously. "I give you leave."

Willow smiled seductively at him. "You're the best." She turned back to Buffy. "We haven't met." She took a step forward. "Let's keep it that way."

Buffy smirked. "All you need to know is I'm the Slayer."

An interested buzz started up in the club. Catcalls sounded from the balcony. Willow looked up and laughed. "Wow, this is the most fun we've had in forever. And that's a timeframe I expect to understand really well." Willow circled her. "So how many of us do you think you can take before you die?"

Buffy didn't look away. "All of you. And I don't plan to die."

"Let's see about that." Willow backed away and spoke to the crowd. "Ok, one at a time. And leave some for me." 

"There will be plenty for you, Red," Buffy said as she met the first vampire's kick and sparred briefly before staking him. Another came at her. She finished him off, too. But there were more. And more. The kills were taking longer. Buffy could feel herself tiring. She tried to catch her breath before the next vampire came forward. 

"Okay, it's my turn. I don't want to wait until all the fight in you is gone. No fun in that." Willow stepped forward, and she and Buffy circled each other. A sudden commotion at the main door made them both turn. 

Buffy gasped. A dark-haired vampire was holding her mom. "Look what I found, baby."

Joyce struggled futilely. "Buffy?"

"Buffy? What kind of name is Buffy?" Willow walked toward Joyce. 

Buffy lunged at her, but Willow spun out of the way. "Let me guess. This is your watcher?"

The vampire holding Joyce shook his head. "Her mom."

"Oh, Xander. This is really good."

The vampire ducked his head. "I like to make you happy."

"And you do," Willow said as she kicked out at Buffy, narrowly missing as the tired slayer jerked back. "This is great. It'll be so much better with a witness." She walked over to Joyce, keeping an eye on Buffy as she moved. Reaching out, she grabbed a handful of Joyce's hair and pulled hard. "You can watch your daughter die. Or maybe, when she's dying, I'll make her watch while I kill you. Which do you think would be more fun?" Willow scowled. "Not going to answer, huh? Ok, then. I guess it's fight time." She let go, and turning, advanced on Buffy.

Buffy feinted then punched home with her other hand. But Willow wasn't there. She felt her stake being pulled out of her hand.

Willow played with the stake then looked at Xander. "Are you feeling a little peckish?"

He nodded. 

"Why don't you take a little taste?" She laughed as Xander bit down on Joyce's neck. "Not enough to kill her, love. Just enough to hurt her."

"You bitch," Buffy tried to rush past her but Willow caught her by the arm and threw her into the crowd. Buffy punched her way out, only to find the vamp waiting for her, holding the stake as if it were a knife. "Now I get to be the Slayer," she said with a grin.

"Slay this," Buffy said, desperation giving her new strength. She kicked and punched, trying to get past the vampire's guard. For a minute she thought Willow was finally giving ground as the vampire retreated slowly toward Joyce. Then Willow smiled and very calmly said, "Bored now." Buffy realized too late that the vampire had just lured her closer to Joyce to improve her mother's view. 

"Buffy!" Joyce screamed as Willow drove the stake into Buffy's chest and let it stay there. 

Buffy looked down and tried to pull out the stake but it was too much for her. Blood started to flow from the wound and Buffy fell to her knees. 

Willow followed her down. "There now. Isn't that much better? Don't worry. It'll take a while to kill you." The vampire let her face go back to human and smiled sweetly at Buffy as she ran her finger through the blood and brought it to her lips. "You taste so good."

Joyce sobbed, "You're a monster."

"That's pretty harsh. You hardly know me." Willow nodded to Xander. "Let her go. I want to watch their pain."

Joyce nearly collapsed when the vampire let her go. She slowly made her way to her daughter. "Buffy..."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know I disappointed you."

"I should have paid more attention," Joyce sobbed.

"It wouldn't have mattered. I'm the Chosen One. It's my destiny."

"Well, this is really touching." Willow pretened to wipe off tears. "All this talk about destiny and disappointment. Next you'll get to the part where you say you love her, and then she'll say that she loves you." 

"You know nothing about love," Joyce said.

"Don't want to. Never had it when I was human. Now that I've been reborn, I don't need it." Willow stretched sinuously. "I spent too many years lonely and afraid. Now, people fear me."

"You're sick," Buffy gasped, squeezing her mother's hand hard as a wave of pain hit her. 

"This was fun, but now it's not." Willow yawned. "Maybe we could make this dying part go faster." She gave the stake a little poke.

As Buffy gasped in pain, Joyce leapt at Willow, surprising her enough to land a vicious punch before the vampire knocked her away. "You'll regret that." She kicked out and sent Joyce flying. Then Willow turned and advanced on Buffy. Her foot hovered over the stake. "It's gonna hurt a lot when I do this."

Joyce struggled to sit upright. 

"Finish her, Xander," Willow ordered. "But let her watch this." As Willow's foot came down, Joyce screamed at her. "No!" 

But the stake slammed through Buffy. The pain was unimaginable. Buffy felt blood rise in her throat. "Mom," she tried to say, but no sound came out except a faint gasp of air.

Joyce fought Xander as he hauled her up into his arms. Her eyes met Willow's and, even as Xander's teeth tore into her neck, she whispered, "You're a monster that shouldn't exist. I just wish I could I could make that happen."

Buffy, watching as her mother stopped struggling then went slack, thought she heard an amused voice say, "Wish granted," then everything went black.

"You understand now?" Tara's voice was gentle. 

Buffy shuddered. How many times had she died? And that time at Willow's hand? "She's my friend."

"She is your friend, this time around. You didn't cause this, Buffy. You saved her." Joyce took her hand. "You changed her destiny just enough that she stayed human. She tasted evil, but she's still Willow deep down. That creature I had to watch kill you was never born."

"Why are you showing me this?"

Tara stroked her hair. "Because you have to live. Because you have to look forward, not back. Your life here on out is uncharted. We can't help you see your future. But we can help you understand the past."

"You're not to blame. You never were," Joyce said fiercely.

Buffy felt the control, the ice she'd kept around her heart ever since she'd been brought back crack. She began to cry. The way she had that one time with Tara. When the other girl had held her and tried to make it better. 

Tara walked over and gave her a hug. "You'll be alright now. Really."

Buffy smiled through her tears. "I'm going to miss you, Tara."

"I know. I'm going to go now." Tara slowly faded away.

Buffy turned to Joyce. "I've missed you too. So much."

"And I've missed my little girl."

Buffy allowed herself to sink into her mother's arms. She held her tightly and resisted when she felt an arm trying to shake her loose.

"Buffy, let go of the pillow, it's time to get up," Dawn said crankily.

"I'm up." Buffy remembered saying that to her mother on her first day of school in Sunnydale. How long ago that was. But it seemed like only yesterday. And why did she feel like her mother was so close. She looked at Dawn and said, "I was dreaming I think."

"Something good, I hope," Dawn said as she walked out of the room. 

"I'm not sure, but I think so," Buffy said, as she slipped out of bed and got ready to face her future. 

FIN


	16. No Superman (Season 7, "Showtime" post-ep and the last of these codas)

_I am no superman_  
I have no answers for you  
I am no hero, oh that's for sure  
But I do know one thing  
Where you are is where I belong  
I do know where you go is where I want to be  
— Where Are You Going, Dave Matthews Band 

 

"Just take it slow," Buffy whispered. Her voice was everything that Spike had imagined during the long torturous hours in the cave. It was the voice that had kept him sane, that had kept his dreams a haven. 

"You came for me." 

"Of course, I came for you." Her tone didn't invite further comment. She helped him through the tunnel. He could barely see where they were going; his eyes would soon swell completely shut. When they reached a larger chamber, she stopped in the entranceway and eased him against the wall, waiting to see if could stand unsupported. "We're getting out of here," she said, pointing up.

Spike could just make out a hole above his head. A rope ladder hung down from it. She must think he was too weak to shinny up a rope. As he moved and pain erupted from every part of his body, he realized she was probably right.

He turned his head, watching as she walked back into the main chamber and began to close off all the entrances to it, moving rocks and kicking down the sides until the only way out was the one above them. Walking back to him, she helped him to the rope ladder. As he leaned on her, he heard her take a sharp gasp of breath. She's in pain too, he thought, trying not lean too heavily on her. He saw her wince as she helped him climb and he realized the ladder wasn't just for him. She needed as much of a break as he did. "You're hurt," he whispered.

"Not as badly as you are." She looked up at him. "Not as badly as I might have been if beheading hadn't worked on the Turok-Han."

"I knew you'd kill that sodding bastard."

"Yeah, I beat it." Her voice trailed off as she heaved him the final way out of the hole, into a dirt lot, then pulled herself out slowly. 

He noticed that it seemed to take a lot for her to push herself to her feet. She turned and Spike followed her gaze. He could barely make out Xander standing next to a very large cement truck. 

"I don't want anything else working in that chamber, Xan." She pulled Spike to his feet gently, then moved him away from the hole. 

Xander maneuvered a large spout over the opening to the cave. He hit a control on the back of the truck, and wet cement began to fill the hole.

Spike started to laugh, but the laugh turned into a groan as the movement pulled already wrenched muscles in his chest. "That'll get her attention," he said softly. 

"Oh, we'll do more than just get the First's attention." He'd never heard Buffy's voice more resolved. 

Xander looked over, and Spike tensed, ready for the verbal attack that he knew was sure to come.

"Glad to see you're okay," Xander said, and something in his voice captured Spike's attention. He sounded different. Grown up. It was unsettling. "Are you still under that thing's control?" Xander asked.

Spike had the feeling that Xander wouldn't have a problem staking him if he said yes. Or if he said no, and lied. He told the truth, wanted to tell the truth. It was to his credit, after all. "She couldn't break me. And she lost her power over me the more she tried."

"Yeah, the First Evil's big with the talking," Xander agreed as he turned off the hose. He walked up to the cab, talking to someone inside. Then the truck began to move, pulling away. A few seconds later another truck backed into the lot. Xander motioned it back to the hole, then pulled down the spout and started the cement flowing again. It took five truck-loads to completely fill the hole. "You weren't wrong about those dimensions, Buff." 

She barely smiled, just stood in silence as he closed off the First's lair. "She won't be using that place again." She put Spike's arm back over her shoulder and started to walk wearily in the direction of the house.

"Wouldn't you rather ride, Buff?" Xander said softly. 

She stopped, didn't look up at Xander or at Spike as she turned around and began to trudge to the truck. "Ride. Yes. Good."

Spike realized she was exhausted. Hurt and tired beyond reason. The last time he'd seen her like this had been during the fight with Glory. She'd pushed and pushed and then...she'd died. He blinked rapidly, trying not to remember the grief he'd felt when he'd seen her body crash to the ground. She'd bounced when she hit the concrete blocks. He hadn't thought of that since she'd come back. Hadn't heard the sound of her soft body connecting with hard stone since she'd been resurrected. "No," he groaned.

She stopped instantly. "Spike?"

He forced himself to stand on his own. Swallowed the pain that nearly overwhelmed him as he took a step without her help, then another. He had to fight to keep his balance. But he would not add to her pain. That wasn't why he'd come back. Not why he'd won his soul. "Come on, Slayer. Night's not getting any younger." His voice was a pale imitation of his normal cocky tone, but he saw her smile, the little half-smile where only one side of her lip curled up.

As he took another step toward where Xander waited, he saw Buffy nod, and he felt as if she had just found him worthy—as if he had finally passed some test.

It took a long time to walk to the truck. She made it long before he did, but she waited silently for him to catch up, leaning up against the open door of the truck. 

His voice was low, so that only she could hear him as he said, "You believed in me." He crawled up into the cab.

"I still do," she said just as softly, pushing him up slightly when his strength faltered. Then she hauled herself up next to him.

Spike leaned his head on the back of the cab, heard Xander say to the driver, "Let's go, Lenny."

"Rough night, boss," Lenny observed.

"You don't know the half of it," Xander said. 

Spike could feel Buffy's leg against his; there was no help for it in the crowded cab. Her warmth soothed him. 

"I'm going to need your help," she said quietly. "You're going to have to heal fast."

"We can have a race," he said, touching his eye gently. It was completely closed but it didn't hurt as much as it had. 

"I'll win," she said, no doubt in her voice. He wondered what had happened to make her so much stronger, so much more determined. Was it just that she didn't care any more?

"We've got a bunch of girls to get ready," she continued, "potential slayers. And most of them haven't had any training." 

"Sounds interesting," he said.

"I guess. It's crowded in the house. The basement is a training room now." 

Nowhere for him to sleep, in other words. "I'll find a corner somewhere," he said softly.

"The couch is mine," Xander muttered.

"We'll work it out," she said finally. "Sleep is the least of our problems."

"You need sleep, Buffy. I can smell how tired you are."

"I'll be fine."

"She won't listen to any of us," Xander said, resignation in his voice. This was an old argument apparently.

"I'm fine, Xander," Buffy said.

"Right," he said, trailing off in a way that made it clear he didn't agree.

"She needs to rest." Spike nearly jumped as he heard Joyce's voice, close to his ear, as if she was sitting behind him, which would have been impossible in the single cab. "Get her to sleep. Or she'll be too tired." 

For a second, Spike wondered if it was the voice of the First, following him back to Buffy's. Then he felt a sense of presence, as Joyce touched him on his shoulder. The pain from where the joint had been dislocated during one of the many torture session stopped when Joyce touched him. This wasn't the First. That thing hadn't been able to touch him. 

Joyce's voice got closer, lower. "Take care of her, Spike."

"I will. I promise," he answered, only barely aware he had said it out loud. 

"Huh?" Xander said. "Nice to see he's back to being crazy talks-to-himself guy."

Spike was actually relieved to have nasty Xander back. Made the world seem normal again. And survivable. He ignored Xander and turned to Buffy. "You have to sleep to heal."

"There's no time."

"We have to make time," he reached out, found her cheek more by instinct than sight. "Look at me, Buffy. I need some rest or I'm no good to you. Just a few hours. No interruptions. No disturbances. You need the same. Or you'll be no good to anyone."

"He's not wrong," Xander said, and Spike wondered if he'd ever uttered those words before. 

"I'll be no good to anyone if I can't figure out how we're going to beat this thing yet. I have to think, have to plan."

He shook his head. "Let someone else plan. Just for a while."

"I can't."

He dropped his hand and tried to tell Joyce he'd tried, but Buffy wouldn't sleep. He heard Buffy yawn and wondered how long before she became too tired to think. Too tired to prevent that crucial mistake he'd told her about so long ago. The First's going to have herself a real good day, if that happens, he thought grimly. 

But Buffy wouldn't go down alone. Not this time. No matter what happened, no matter how the final battle came, he'd be by her side. And they'd win together.

Or he'd die for her and she'd win.

Or they'd die together.

Spike found that it didn't much matter to him anymore. His path was unknown, but his place was clear. It would be by her side. 

He wouldn't have to dream about saving her. Not this time. She wouldn't leave him behind again. He'd help her win the fight. Or he'd die trying. 

He laughed then. The movement didn't hurt as much as it had earlier. He'd take care of her. He wasn't much, but whatever he was, it was at her disposal.

An unlikely champion. Certainly no superman. Just a man that wanted to make a difference. A vampire that wanted to make the Slayer's life easier. 

Like Angel. God, the big poof would be laughing at him about now.

Spike relaxed against the cab. He quit fighting sleep and let his overtaxed muscles and nerves relax. 

Angel was standing in front of him, laughing. Then he turned into Dru. "Did you think you could escape?"

Before Spike could answer, Joyce appeared and said, "Get out." She had a huge sword in her hands, and she lifted it then turned it and slammed the point into the ground between Dru and Spike. She began to glow, shining as brightly as the sun that meant death to Spike. He closed his eyes.

But It didn't hurt his eyes, didn't burn him. He opened his eyes in time to see Dru morph into Buffy, then something else, something that wasn't human. 

"You're no champion," it screamed at him, as it turned back into Dru, who promptly exploded into dust.

"You killed it."

"Only here, in your dreams. It's the only place I can keep you safe so you can protect Buffy when the time comes. Sleep now. No one will hurt you, while I'm here."

"I'll protect her," he promised again.

"I know you will." She touched him.

All thought deserted him, as Spike fell into a healing, dreamless, and utterly safe sleep.

 

FIN


End file.
